


Wishing

by MagicMarker



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Angst, Antisemitism, Everybody Lives, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Fígrid February, Khuzdul, Kissing, Light Angst, Miscommunication, Mutual Pining, Pet Names, Pining, Post-Battle of Five Armies, Rosh HaShana | Jewish New Year, Sibling Banter, Sibling Bonding, The Dwarves are Jews, Yom Kippur | Atonement Day, a holiday by any other name would smell as sweet, or well references thereto, sorry I don't make the rules - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-22
Updated: 2016-03-28
Packaged: 2018-05-22 16:36:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 21,751
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6086887
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MagicMarker/pseuds/MagicMarker
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dwarves have always taken their rest as seriously as their work, and the Êrâs Nar (New Year) celebration is no different.  Unfortunately no one told Bard ahead of time.  In an effort to alleviate the Lord of Dale’s growing distrust of his neighbors to the north, Fíli and Kíli invite the whole family to the Lonely Mountain to celebrate their next holiday, just one week later.  And if Fíli and Sigrid get the opportunity to grow a little closer, well, that would just be a bonus.  Who knows what could happen when two cultures collide?  Besides, everybody knows a little wishing never hurt anyone.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks to [inheritanceofgeek](http://archiveofourown.org/users/inheritanceofgeek) also known on tumblr as [mrsmarymorstan](http://mrsmarymorstan.tumblr.com/), who did all of the English-Khuzdul translations for me without even once complaining. <3
> 
> Also and especially to [magic_ramen](http://archiveofourown.org/users/magic_ramen) also on tumblr as [magic-ramen](http://magic-ramen.tumblr.com/), who gave me the idea in the first place, and then beta-read this for me and made sure I wasn’t wildly misrepresenting the parts of Jewish culture that I pulled into this fic.

It had been almost one year since the Battle. The winter had been terrible for Men and Dwarves both, but those who made it to the spring had taken full advantage of the warm weather. Every person did what they could, building and rebuilding, planting and pruning, and when Autumn arrived, they had quite a different situation on their hands. People had homes, now, and food, and even money to spend in the meager marketplace.

The Men of Dale had been eager for Erebor’s help to fill out the town square, but by tonight only Men and the spare Elf would be left; all Dwarves were closing up in preparations for their holiday. A crisp wind blew Fíli’s hair in front of his face and caught on the corners of his lips as he helped lash the canvas down over the front of a Dwarven shop. He spat the hair back out of his mouth and called, “All good on this side! See you back at the Mountain. I still need to pick up some things and then I’ll be off.”

“Many thanks to you, Prince Fíli!” a voice called from inside, muffled by the canvas and the wind.

Fíli dug absently in his pocket as he headed away from the blacksmiths’ alley and towards the food stalls, jingling the coins he carried. He didn’t have time to barter today; it was already past noon and he had to get back to Erebor by nightfall. 

“Good day, Prince Fíli,” called the fishmonger. “Picking up your dinner? Why not some trout? Fresh caught this morning!”

“How did you know?” Fíli answered. He approached the stall and looked over the display. All filleted already. Fíli’s mouth twisted in a frown. “Have you any fish still whole? I need four.”

“Still whole?” she said, eyebrow arched. “I promise you, Master Dwarf, I’m as skilled with a knife as any else in Arda. You’ll find no bones in these filets.”

“Oh! No, um,” he sighed. “I truly do not mean to offend. It’s not that. I just… It’s a Dwarf thing, I suppose. We’re going to cook them whole tonight.” 

“I… see. Well let me see what I can do.” She went behind her storefront and Fíli looked around, planning his next stop. Kíli had the other half of the shopping list, so all he needed now was the confectioner’s. Sugar was still very pricey, but it would be worth it today.

“All right, Prince Fíli, I have found you your fish.” The fishmonger held up a large package wrapped in butcher paper. “It’ll be--”

Fíli put three gold coins on the counter as he plucked the package from her hand. “You must forgive me but I’m in a bit of a rush. Thank you very much, my lady. Happy new year!” And without looking back he all but ran to his next destination. The candy shop was full of people, mostly children, and he grimaced. He’d be waiting for ages. Unless…

A familiar brown head stood waiting patiently far ahead of him in line. “Lady Sigrid?” he asked, putting on his winningest smile. “Fancy seeing you here!”

“Prince Fíli!” she exclaimed, yanked out of her thoughts by his greeting. “Um, hello. What brings you to Mr. Johannson’s? I didn’t think Dwarves were really the type for candy.” She tugged at her clothing self-consciously, a faint pink tinge on her cheeks. 

“It’s a special occasion,” he answered, edging his shoulder in behind her, hoping the person who was _actually_ behind her in line wouldn’t notice. “And what about you? Something tells me Lord Bard isn’t the one with the sweet tooth.”

Sigrid smiled, standing tall as she shifted forward along with the queue. “No, Tilda got good marks in school so she gets a treat tonight. Just some penny candy, but it seems to motivate her.”

“Please send her my congratulations!” A child running far too fast for the small space barrelled into Fíli’s knees and he chuckled. “Whoa there, friend.” The kid clambered back to his feet with a muttered _‘Sorry’,_ then ran back to his mother.

She watched the child speed off, then turned to face him completely. “Prince Fíli,” she accused, voice lowered below the din of the crowded store. “Are you talking to me just to budge in line?”

“Who, me?”

Sigrid folded her arms over her chest and gave him a look.

Fíli sighed. “I apologize, Lady Sigrid. Trust me, any other day and I’d wait my turn in line, same as anyone. But I’m running late, and I must be to Erebor before dark.”

“But you just _have_ to have a chocolate first?” 

He ran a hand through his hair and grimaced. “Taffy apples. I could do completely without them-- apples are the _worst --_ but Ki loves ‘em, and it’s a bit of a tradition. So I take one too and just eat all the candy off the outside.” 

The last person in front of them peeled off with their paper bag stuffed full, and Sigrid approached the counter. “Five pieces of the honey candy please. No, thank you, that’s it for now.” She carefully counted out the pennies while the shopkeeper walked over to the correct case.

“Here, let me,” he murmured, shifting in front of her to slide another of the gold coins onto the counter, then called, “Add four taffy apples to the order, if you please!”

She turned in surprise, and suddenly their chests were pressed together. “Fíl-- _Prince_ Fíli, you certainly don’t have to--”

A flush ran up Fili’s neck as he took a step back. “Excuse me,” he said with a cough. Once a safe distance away he continued, “I don’t mean any offense, Lady Sigrid. It’s just… It’s a special day for the Dwarves tomorrow. We’re encouraged,” he hesitated, trying to find the right words. “We’re encouraged to be generous with everyone, in hopes for a good new year.” 

The shopkeeper arrived with the candy in a small envelope and the apples in a sack. Sigrid’s lips were pursed but she said nothing as Fíli smiled at the two of them, took the goods, and left the gold coin on the counter.

Once free from the heat and noise of the candy shop, Fíli pulled the hood of his jacket up and looked to the sky. Damn, it was getting late. He pressed the envelope into Sigrid’s hands with a smile. “Here you are. Send Tilda and all your family my best regards. I really must get on the road as soon as possible.”

“Erm, thank you,” she answered, tucking the candy into her pocket as he headed south towards the inn where his pony was stabled. “Fíli wait! Did you say ‘New Year?’ It’s only Autumn!”

Fíli merely waved over his shoulder. “Farewell, Lady Sigrid!” He heard her huff behind him but it was too bad. There was no time to stop and explain; he’d already have to gallop the whole way over the plains. Night was coming, and he needed to get inside the Mountain before Êrâs Nar began.

~*~

“It’s just… _odd,_ ” Bard complained, stomping the mud off his boots before stepping inside the house. “Has this happened before? _Every single one_ of the Dwarf shops closed?”

Sigrid shrugged as she shut the door against the chill. “I don’t rightly know, Da,” she answered. Rolling up a towel to block the draft, she added, “I saw Prince Fíli at the candy shop yesterday. I think he said something about a holiday? He was in quite a rush to be back to the Mountain by sundown.”

Heavy, clomping footsteps announced her younger brother’s arrival to the entryway. “That’s odd,” Bain supplied through a mouthful of food. “He doesn’t seem the type to be afraid of the dark.”

“No,” Bard answered absently as he shucked off his ratty bargeman’s coat. “No he does not. That Dwarf King is up to something, I’m telling you.” 

“Like celebrating a _holiday,_ Da? I wouldn’t worry about it,” Sigrid tutted with a roll of her eyes. She went to the kitchen and put a kettle on while she waited for her da to calm down. Lately it seemed like he was just itching for a fight with King Thorin, trying to find ulterior motives in the actions of even the simplest Dwarf. 

The wind howled outside, whistling through the cracks in the window frame, making the flame on the stove dance. They would really need some heavy curtains by winter, but textiles were still hard to come by. Maybe if she and Tilda shared a bed they could spare a blanket?

The kettle started its whining whistle and she pulled it off the flame, dumping tea into it without measuring. It was clear now the days were getting shorter as well. Dale would need to hustle to get the rest of the harvest in before the first frost. But speaking of holidays, maybe Dale should do something special this winter. Last year they’d been in full recovery mode and no one had been able to do much of anything. But this year...

“Da, I was thinking,” she called as she poured two mugs full. “Wouldn’t it be nice if-- Where did you go?” 

“In here,” came the call from the room that had become Bard’s office. Sigrid huffed a laugh to herself. Her da had an _office._ Two years ago they hadn’t even had proper bedrooms. She nudged the door all the way open with her hip, and presented one of the mugs to him, sitting down in front of his desk - _his desk -_ with the other. 

“I’ve been thinking as well,” Bard announced, taking the mug between both hands as if to let its warmth through his palms to the rest of his body. “I think it’s about time we paid our neighbors to the north a little visit, don’t you?” He tossed a folded piece of paper towards her and nodded for her to read it. “I’m sending this up tonight, what do you think?”

Sigrid put her mug down on the desk and opened the letter. Her eyes flitted back and forth as she scanned its contents, muttering under her breath, “Esteemed King Under the Mountain, blah blah blah, harvest time, celebrate trade and teamwork, so on and so forth-- Da, do you really think you can just invite yourself over like this? On a Saturday? That’s not even three days’ notice.”

“Why not? It’s no different than when Thorin sends a raven ahead of Fíli or Dwalin.”

She pursed her lips, eyeing Bard for a moment while she found the words she wanted.

“What?” he protested. “Don’t you think?”

“Well… You’re right, it’s basically the same. Do what you think is best, Da,” she answered. Her shoulders slumped as she traded the parchment for her mug. “I still think you’re making a mountain out of a molehill.”

+++

When the reply came at dinner the next day, even Sigrid had to admit there was something unusual going on in Erebor.

_Thorin Oakenshield, King Under the Mountain, to the revered Lord Bard of Dale,_

_Many thanks for your letter which we received yesterday. Unfortunately I must insist you do not come; we will not be able to entertain you and your children on Saturday._

_Please accept my regrets._

The signature was just as curt: a stamp of a Khuzdul rune, presumably Thorin’s name. When Sigrid lowered the paper, her da’s face was as stormy as the sky outside. 

“What is going on up there?” he all but growled, snatching the paper out of her hands and waving it right back in her face. _“I must insist you do not come?_ What does that mean? What is he hiding?”

“Da, please,” Sigrid groaned. “Why are you so quick to imagine some foul plot? Perhaps they have some other commitment. Eat your carrots.”

“Then why not just say as much? Why the secrecy?”

“He’s right, Sig,” Bain added, “it _is_ really weird.”

Sigrid fought the urge to roll her eyes. Leave it to Bain to be supremely unhelpful. “Well you know King Thorin is not exactly one to provide extra details in the best of circumstances. Besides, the weather is still horrid, and shows no signs of letting up. You don’t want to get on a horse anyway.” She took Thorin’s letter from Bard and set it back down on the table. “Please, Da, eat. It’s getting cold, and I wouldn’t want the food - and my hard work I might add - to go to waste.” After a moment she added, “Tilda, you too, stop pushing it around your plate.”

Bard and Tilda gave identical huffs. “I’m writing back tonight,” he declared, eyes downcast as he speared some beef and carrots perhaps more aggressively than was strictly necessary.

She swallowed a bit hastily in her rush to stop him. “Da, please don’t, you’ll just anger him. Why don’t you write to the prince instead? He’s usually much more forthcoming.”

“Yes, write to Fíli!” Tilda chirped, mouth full of food.

“ _Prince_ Fíli,” Sigrid reminded her sternly. “You mustn’t forget, Tilda, he’s royalty, not some playground friend.”

“Why don’t _you_ write to him, Sigrid?” Bain suggested, voice overly-innocent. “I know you two have sent rather a lot of letters back and forth over the year, this one would certainly not stand out.” He looked only at his food, neatly cutting his meat into bite-sized pieces. For a moment, the only sound was his knife against the plate as Bard considered the full implications of what Bain had said.

“Nobody asked you, _Bain,_ ” she hissed, cheeks burning. “It’s nothing, Da,” she added in a voice pitched much higher than she’d intended. “It’s just… We’re just… Just keeping in touch, you know, how things are going, just small talk.”

“So _you_ get to be friends with Prince Fíli but I don’t?” Tilda gasped, agog. “Not. _Fair.”_

“No, Tilda, that’s not-- I don’t mean--”

Bain cut in with a wicked smile, “Bet you and the Heir to Erebor are real close now, huh, Sig?”

“No! That’s not what’s going on at all,” Sigrid said. Now it was her turn to look down at her food. After all, wishing could not make it so.

“Aye, I’m sure,” Bard replied, unconvinced. He scraped the last bit of gravy off his plate and into his mouth, then pushed away from the table. “Do it tonight then, Sigrid. I don’t want this to wait. But be careful with him. Those Durins keep everything close to the chest.”

“Fine,” she retorted, rising to her feet. “You all do the dishes then.” Ignoring her siblings’ protests, she went to her da’s office and closed the door behind her. It was chilly, as he hadn’t been in there at all today to make it worth starting a fire, but she didn’t care. Better privacy than warmth. 

The letter couldn’t go out tonight anyway, it was nearly dark and Da had used all their birds on other messages. Regardless, this task had gotten her out of washing dishes, so she sat down at the desk, lit the lamp, slid a blank piece of parchment in front of herself, and started sucking on the quill. After a moment of thought, she dipped the quill in the dark inkwell and began to write.

_Lady Sigrid of Dale, to Fíli, Crown Prince Under the Mountain,_

_It was ever so nice to see you at the confectioner’s on Tuesday, even if you did take advantage of our acquaintance to secure a shorter wait in line. I hope Kíli enjoyed the taffy apples, though you declared them so passionately to be “the worst.”_

_I’m sure you’re aware of my father’s letter to King Thorin requesting a Saturday visit, and I am assuming you know the reason he declined? It’s true Da has never gone up on the weekend, but now he has quite a bee in his bonnet about all the shops having been closed on Wednesday. I tried to tell him you had mentioned a holiday, but with the King’s curt reply he is growing more anxious. I was hoping you could shed some light on the situation? I know the Erebor Dwarves who keep shops in our marketplace don’t open on Saturday, but I figure everyone needs a day to recover from a week full of work. Is that why King Thorin wants us to come another day - that we’d be a bother to the other Dwarves on their day off?_

_I hope this is not too forward of me to ask. Please know that you are of course under no obligation to tell me; I only wish to understand and perhaps assuage some of my poor da’s anxiety. Is there some other day we could come to visit? Only Da has ever been, and Tilda has grown curiouser with every passing month (and I must admit, I too had felt no small measure of excitement when Da announced he wanted to bring us all with him this time. I often wonder what it would be like to live completely under the rock with nothing but torches and lamps to light an entire life. I suspect it would take some getting used to after so many years under the sky)._

_Please write back as soon as you are able, for it won’t be long before Da pulls every last hair out of his head. (Additionally, and I know this is far too much to ask, but please do not tell the King that I’ve written this to you. Da would be mortified if he knew how much I’ve put down in this letter. But I believe I can trust you to do the right thing for both our parties.)_

_Kindest regards,_

_S_

Sigrid waved the paper back and forth to dry the ink, then folded it and sealed it with wax. It wouldn’t do for a curious messenger to see what she’d put down. This was for Fili’s eyes only.

_~*~_

The pigeon dropped the letter in front of Fíli and pecked at some crumbs on his plate. It felt like every eye at the dinner table was on him as he picked it up, examined the seal, and tucked it into his pocket as stone-faced as possible.

“What’djya get, Fíli?” Ori asked, mouth full of food. “A pigeon - someone from Dale, hm?”

“Or further? Is that the answer from Mirkwood? Are they finally going to let us come down there with some steel?” asked Bifur.

“Aye, who’s sending you notes on Adkhâtnurt?” Bombur asked.

“Open it, we won’t tell!” 

“What is it, Fíli? Come on!”

Kíli put a hand on Fíli’s chest and raised his other to the company. “Now, now, friends, stop bothering my poor brother. He owes you no answer and would be able to give you none til tomorrow at any rate. Far be it from Crown Prince Fíli to tear open the seal on that letter on this, our holy day of rest. Besides,” he added, eyes twinkling as he dropped the somber tone. “My bet’s on a _girl.”_

Fíli’s head dropped to the table as the raucous teasing continued. “Mahal have mercy on my soul,” he groaned into his lap. The pigeon still cooed, strutting around as pleased as punch. Raising his head, he muttered, “You just _had_ to come during dinner, didn’t you? Go on now, you got your crumbs. Get out of here, go on home.” When the bird didn’t move he batted at it gently. “No, no reply tonight. Go _home._ ”

Looking somehow more clueless than usual, the pigeon took wing and headed out. He hated to send it back without a reply but the ravens wouldn’t take kindly to a pigeon in the rookery, and he couldn’t exactly explain himself tonight. Sigrid had never written him over a weekend before; she was usually too busy spending time with her family. Something unusual must have happened.

The letter burned against his chest; he wanted nothing more than to read it straight away, but Kíli, though teasing, was right. He couldn’t write back tonight. He couldn’t even _open_ it - which was also odd, Sigrid had always just folded the paper so it stayed closed. She never used wax. But there was nothing doing. He wouldn’t break their custom along with that seal. It would have to wait until tomorrow night.

Luckily everyone had a short attention span and were already distracted from his letter by a (rather tall) tale from Nori. Fíli laughed along with everyone else but at the end he bowed out and went up to his room. Only Kíli seemed to notice.

Safe in the silence of his own bedchamber, Fíli took the letter from his pocket and placed it on the table. The seal of Girion stared him in the face, but the handwriting on the address was definitely Sigrid, not Bard. “What’s the matter, Sigrid?” he asked aloud. “Why seal this one?” 

The sputter of the lamp oil was the only reply as he pulled off his boots and prepared for an early bed time. The sooner tomorrow came, the sooner the sun would set again and he could find out what she needed. He only hoped it wasn’t urgent.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Khuzdul Translations_
> 
> Êrâs Nar = New Year (Rosh Hashanah)  
>  Adkhâtnurt = Rest day (Sabbath)
> 
> ~*~
> 
> Hope you enjoyed the chapter! Let me know via kudos or comments, or you can find me [here on tumblr](http://cersei-the-truth-bombardier.tumblr.com). Thanks for reading!


	2. Chapter 2

The next morning Fíli stayed in bed as long as possible, throwing the bedcovers off only when Kíli would not stop pounding on his door. 

“All right, Ki, I’m coming already. Just let me get some pants on for goodness’ sakes!” Once he was covered to his satisfaction he threw the door open. _“What.”_

“Did you open it? Is that why you left dinner early?” Kíli asked, pushing his way into Fíli’s chambers. “You just didn’t want anyone to watch you break Adkhâtnurt, right? So who was it?”

“Dammit, Kíli,” he began, still trying to finish lacing his trousers. “It’s none of your--”

“You didn’t open it!?” Kíli interrupted, turning the small square of folded parchment over and back. “Oh Mahal-- This is from Lord Bard’s girl, innit?”

“Kíli, you little goat, that’s mine and you have no business sticking your nose in where it doesn’t belong!”

“It _is_ from Bard’s girl! That’s his seal but I’ll be damned if that’s his handwriting. Do you want me to open it? I will break that wax for you without hesitation. I get that you have an _image_ to maintain, that’s fine, I support that. But what else are little brothers for?” Kíli was practically vibrating, still flipping the paper over and over between his fingers

“No!” Fíli snatched the letter from his brother’s hands and stuck it in the back of his tragically pocketless trousers. “You’re not going to help me _cheat_ on Adkhâtnurt! Ugh, I can’t believe you sometimes.”

“Fine.” Kíli crossed his arms and pouted for a moment, then added, “But you better finish getting dressed quick because Thorin wants us to eat breakfast with him something like fifteen minutes ago.”

Fíli cursed under his breath and rushed to his closet, tossing the letter onto his nightstand, trying to choose a matching jerkin and shirt as quickly as possible. He got his arms and head through them and hopped his way to the door, trying to pull his boots on his feet as he went. His jerkin flapped open behind him as he hustled out the door, uncaring. He could fasten his clothing on the way.

“Shit,” he muttered, sparing one last look for the folded parchment sitting on the table next to his bed. Hopefully it wasn’t anything terrible. Or urgent. Or terribly urgent. Sigrid would understand why he couldn’t write back as immediately as he usually did, right?

+++

The bell sounded from the Great Hall, where the balcony and windows allowed for a view outside. “Finally,” Fíli breathed. The sun had set. This had to have been the longest Adkhâtnurt of his entire life. He jumped to his feet and strode as quickly as he could out towards his rooms. 

“Don’t tell me you’re going to skip dinner just for a letter from some woman, Fi,” Kíli clucked, jogging to catch up with him. “Can you imagine the look on Thorin’s face if he were to find out?” 

He winced and rubbed the back of his neck as he stopped in his tracks. “Look, Kíli, it’s not like that.” After all, wishing could not make it so. At his brother’s folded arms he added hastily, “Really! I’m just… _worried,_ is all. We’ve sent more than a few letters back and forth, I’ll grant you, but she always just folds the paper, this is the first time she’s sealed it. And she’s never written on Adkhâtnurt before!”

“But she doesn’t know that our Saturdays have rules, does she?” Kíli added, catching on. “So what’s the big problem? It’s just one day.”

“I just have a feeling, I don’t know. The wax really threw me.” Fíli spared a glance in the direction of the living quarters. The other Dwarves were pushing past them now on the way to the dinner table, chattering about everything from work the next day to the upcoming holiday plans. They brushed past him somewhat carelessly, jostling the both of them from side to side. He took a step out of the fray towards his brother and lowered his voice. “Please, Ki? Cover for me? Tell him I’m not feeling well. I’ll get something from the kitchens myself when I’ve sent the raven off.”

Kíli turned, momentarily pulled away by a passing Dori, who clapped him on the shoulder. “Aye, be there in two shakes.” Then, turning to Fíli he answered, “Fine. But you’re telling me _everything_ once you get done.”

“I can’t promise that.”

He hesitated. “Fine. But you owe me.”

“I owe you,” Fíli agreed, turning on his heel and all but running up to his room.

+++

“Fuck.”

Fíli turned his lamp down and let the paper fall from his fingers to the table, then let his head follow. He should have known this was coming. All his life he’d endured the mutters of the Men in whose cities he’d lived. They’d called him everything from “just a little odd” to “completely bonkers,” cawing crude imitations of their ceremonial instruments whenever he walked by. Teasing him and Kíli for requesting the same day off every week. Implying or outright declaring their meditation and sacred time to be sloth, or accusing them of plotting some sort of coup of the local government. They jangled their coin purses at him, mocking the dragon sickness that caused his people’s diaspora, calling his great grandfather greedy, heartless, insane. Calling them all greedy. 

Eventually it would get to be too much, and Fíli and Kíli would beg their Uncle to take them away, somewhere no one knew their story. Thorin would hold out too, as long as he could, but the murmurings of the Homeless King always drove him to lead his people somewhere else. But everyone knew their story, or found out soon enough, and eventually the whispers would turn to mutters, the quiet speech would turn to shouts. Sometimes shouts turned to fists. It was always only ever a matter of time.

Where were they to go now? This was _actually_ their homeland. Thorin was King Under the Mountain at last. Fíli had a real, solid, _literal_ throne to inherit. Would Bard and his family be just like all the rest? 

He pulled his boots back on and pulled a robe around himself, then headed across the hall to Kíli’s rooms. Fíli needed advice, and badly. He rapped on the door, bouncing on the balls of his feet. “Come on, Ki, please be back already, don’t make me go down there…”

The door swung open to reveal Kíli wearing a shit-eating grin. “What’s the word, brother mine?”

“Bad,” he answered, taking his turn to push into his brother’s chambers. He plopped down with a huff on the small couch in front of the fireplace. 

“What do you mean, ‘ _bad,’_ ” Kíli asked, sitting in the chair next to him. “How bad?”

Fíli leaned back on the arm of the couch and scrubbed at his face with both hands. “She says Bard wants to come to Erebor. He didn’t take Thorin’s refusal well, she says he’s anxious about it. That’s probably her nice way of saying he’s getting paranoid. I _told_ Thorin that he should have found a way to at least let Bard know that everyone would be taking off Wednesday, but he didn’t want to have to explain. I told him, I said _‘our cousins from the Blue Mountains take Adkhâtnurt on Fridays, and the Iron Hills do theirs on Sundays, so no one’s any the wiser. But_ everyone _gone on a Wednesday is going to send up some alarms!’_ But did he listen to me? _No._ And with Zannu Adrâf next week it’s just going to _\--”_

“All right, cool down a moment, will you?” Kíli sighed. “Thorin just didn’t want to give anyone the opportunity to strain relations between Erebor and Dale, right?”

He nodded. “Right…”

“And sure, maybe he bollocksed it up a bit, but this is completely fixable. Probably.”

“How?” Fíli groaned, sitting back up. “Write back saying _‘Yes definitely please come, just not for another eight days’_? That’s not suspicious at all.”

Kíli threw a pillow at him. “No, you dolt. We invite them _for_ Zannu Adrâf. Not after. They can celebrate with us!”

Fíli threw the pillow right back, with significantly more force. “You have got to be kidding me. Bring in a family of Men on the most important day of the year? When we’re all going sock-footed and bare-chested--”

“We wear shirts, Fi.”

“Don’t pretend that it doesn’t feel odd to have only flimsy cotton between you and Mahal, Kíli. Durins were made to wear leather.” He took a breath and continued, “And anyway, why would we invite guests on a day of fasting? That’s not terribly welcoming. ‘ _Hello, thank you for coming, please take off all your boots and belts and any leather thongs, and you shan’t be eating until sundown. Don’t be late for the service in the Great Hall, it’s compulsory.’_ If Bard doesn’t think us odd already, he surely will then.”

Kíli was silent for a moment, holding the pillow loosely. “Why are you so worried about what one Man thinks of us? He’ll be dead before you’re even crowned. If he wants to know, let him know.”

Fíli couldn’t answer, even if he tried. Erebor was theirs, they wouldn’t be leaving, but diplomatic relations _would_ be more difficult if the King of Dale thought them complete lunatics. Yet Kíli was right; Dwarves lived twice as long as Men, and Bard was at least halfway through his life. But Sigrid--

“Oh Mahal save you and fast,” Kíli smirked. “It’s not Bard you care about. You don’t want the girl to know.” Taking Fíli’s silence for assent, he continued, “Are you really that gone on her? How long have you been writing each other?”

“Since Bard’s coronation,” he answered weakly. “Once a week or so.”

“Well you can’t hide this from her _and_ have any sort of real relationship with her. It’s too big, too important, and if she ever found out you’d tried to keep something from her… Well if there’s anything I’ve learned from Tauriel, it’s that no power of Man or Dwarf could match that of a female’s wrath.”

“What do you suppose I do, then, oh Kíli the Wise?” Fíli groaned, sitting up straight again. “I’ll admit it, I do want Sigrid to think well of me. I’d love for her to come here, even to see our customs, but on Zannu Adrâf? Don’t you think that’s a bit much for an introduction to Khuzdul culture?”

The flames of the lamps danced across Kíli’s playful smile. “Why walk when you can run, Fi?”

+++

The next morning the brothers approached their uncle from both sides as he ate his breakfast in the busy dining hall. Row after row of tables were filled with Dwarves getting ready for the day, but Thorin sat alone at the front of the room.

“Good morning, Uncle.”

“Good _morning,_ Uncle! And how are we doing today?”

Thorin put down his silverware and wiped his mouth before answering. “Fíli, Kíli. To what do I owe this overly-cheerful greeting?”

“Well,” Kíli answered, “We know that Bard wrote you about our people’s rather conspicuous absence on Wednesday, you see--”

“Or rather,” Fíli cut in, “that he had wanted to visit this Saturday which of course you politely declined.”

“And we had been thinking, you see, that with the holiday coming up, it would be a perfect opportunity to do a bit of cultural exchange, you see.”

“I see,” Thorin repeated, eyeing them both. 

“Why don’t we invite Bard and his children for Zannu Adrâf?” Fíli’s hands were clenched in fists behind his back, his face schooled carefully as he tried to sound as neutral as possible. “Lord Bard is bound to think something is up by the time the holiday ends. Three days off out of ten is of course unusual for us.”

“Aye, why not nip suspicions and misinformation in the bud, hm?” Kíli added, gesturing a bit wildly. “Set the record straight before it can go crooked. Show him what we’re really up to in here.”

Thorin pursed his lips. “And what exactly brought this master plan about?”

Kíli looked to Fíli, who looked to the ground. Sigrid had specifically asked him to keep the contents of her letter secret. Yet how could he lie to his uncle, his king? “I, er, I received a letter right as Adkhâtnurt began two nights ago, at dinner. It was from the Lady Sigrid, who wondered if I might explain further why we were unable to entertain her family on Saturday.” 

“What do I care if the girl wants to know our secrets?”

“Well that’s just it, Uncle,” Kíli interjected. “Why _should_ they be secrets? They aren’t secrets, really, they’re just a thing that we do that no one knows about.”

“But there’s no reason why they shouldn’t,” Fíli added hastily. 

“There certainly is a reason,” Thorin growled. “Or have you forgotten every time we had to pick up our lives and move when you were bairns? Are you already so spoiled under this Mountain that you don’t remember the torment they put us through?’

“They just didn’t understand,” Fíli pleaded, desperate to placate his uncle before he really got rolling. “And they didn’t want to. But the Lady Sigrid does. _Bard_ does. They’re just curious.” He paused, gauging his uncle’s reaction.

Thorin’s lips were pursed and he pulled absently on his beard. He was thinking about it. He was nearly convinced.

“This isn’t something to hide,” Fíli added. “This is our culture, our _heritage._ Treating it like something secret now, when we are finally secure in our rightful home, makes it seem shameful, or sinister. This is something to be proud of, to share with our neighbors! Why not start with Bard? If he truly thinks us fools, let him. We can outlast him here and try again later.”

Thorin relaxed against the back of the chair. “Perhaps you’re right,” he conceded. “Talk to Balin. See what he says. Then you two can write the invitation, since you’re so thrilled about the idea.” 

Kíli raised his eyebrows in excitement and Fíli resisted the urge to cheer out loud. “Thank you, Uncle, I’m sure you won’t be disappointed!”

The king waved them off, muttering, “Yes, yes, off you go. There was never any saying ‘no’ to you anyway.”

+++

Balin had been instantly amenable to Fíli and Kíli’s suggestion, and in no time they’d returned to Fíli’s quarters to write the letter.

_Fíli, Crown Prince Under the Mountain, to Lo_

“Hey now, don’t forget about me. I have as much to do with this as you do, if not more,” Kíli protested. 

Fíli groaned and tore the top off the roll of parchment, then started again.

_Fíli, Crown Prince Under the Mountain, and Kíli, Prince of Erebor, on behalf of Thorin Oakenshield, King under the Mountain, to the Lord Bard, King of Dale,_

_Greetings to you and all your family! We would like to again express our regrets that we were unable to host you this Saturday. Our apologies that we did not fully explain the situation to you earlier; please allow us to take this opportunity now. Wednesday was Êrâs Nar, our New Year’s celebration. As you noticed, all Dwarfish shops were closed, and our people returned to their homes to celebrate with their families. Then when you requested to visit on Saturday, we sadly had to refuse as that is customarily our day of rest, which includes its own responsibilities here at home. I’m sure this seems out of the ordinary, but let me assure you that these things are very important to our people, and we merely did not want to impose our special practices on you when you did not expect them._

_However, if you would be interested in learning more about our customs, we wish to extend an invitation for you to visit beginning this upcoming Friday. It is Zannu Adrâf, the most important holiday in our calendar. We commemorate the destruction of Erebor (and also, therefore, Dale) when the dragon Smaug first arrived, and re-commit ourselves to making all things right between us and our neighbors._

_You should know, as part of our celebration we begin a fast at sundown, Friday night. We refrain from eating and drinking anything but water (though exceptions are made for children of course), we wear no leather, nor perfumes or lotions, etc, and we do not bathe until the holiday is over. Should you decide to visit it would be expected that you also abide by these practices. However I assure you, there is plenty to do during the day, and quite the celebration when our fast ends at sundown Saturday. We would be honored if you would celebrate this most holy day with us._

_Please answer posthaste to let us know if you and your children are able to attend. It would be best if you could arrive early in the afternoon on Friday so you can be settled before Zannu Adrâf begins. Please do not hesitate to contact Kíli or myself if you have any questions or concerns._

_Your humble servants,_

_Fíli_

_Kíli_

_Sons of Dís and Heirs of Durin_

“There, is that good enough for you?” Fíli asked, massaging life back into his writing hand.

Kíli beamed. “It’s perfect. I’ll take it to the rookery.” He snatched the paper off the desk and waved it at Fíli. “This is going to be the best Zannu Adrâf _ever!”_

Once Kíli had gone and the door closed behind him, Fíli dipped the quill in the ink again and reached for his personal stationery. The official invitation had to go to Bard, but Fíli wanted to return Sigrid’s letter directly, as well. He couldn’t bear it if she thought he’d ignored her.

_Dear Lady Sigrid,_

_Please forgive my informality but I wished to send this letter off as quickly as possible. Hopefully this reaches you not too long after the other reaches your father._

_I am so very sorry about all the trouble. Kíli and I have convinced our uncle to invite you to Erebor this next weekend. I must urge you not to let your father take this invitation lightly. Friday begins our highest holy day. We will be doing things that no doubt sound strange to a Man’s ears; in fact these practices have caused many hardships for us when we have lived in the cities of Men in the past. We are trusting that you and your family will respect us as so many others have not._

_In our letter to King Bard, Kíli and I tried to explain as well as we could what will be expected. If you do not abide by these practices we would need to confine you to your rooms until the holiday is over - that is how serious it is. However I know that you are good, kind, courteous people, and I do not expect this to happen._

_I too am excited for you to see our home here, and to show you what it is like to live under the rock all the time. Trust me that it is much more pleasant than it sounds! Please do not ever think that you would be a burden, you couldn’t possibly be. It would be more than an honor to share this holiday with you._

_Also - I shan’t be down to Dale until after Zannu Adrâf so I do hope you have a wonderful rest of your week. Don’t hesitate to write with any questions you might have. Keep the raven, if you like, just in case._

_Yours,_

_Fíli_

It took forever for the ink to dry, yet Fíli couldn’t bring himself to fold the paper early. He couldn’t risk any more miscommunications. It had already been nearly two days since he’d received Sigrid’s letter, and he always wrote her back immediately. Surely she would have noticed the delay, and worried. He only hoped he hadn’t ruined everything.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Khuzdul Translations_
> 
> Êrâs Nar = New Year (Rosh Hashanah)  
>  Zannu Adrâf = Night of the Kill - the last evening of a month of remembrance and sparse living, used here for their “Day of Remembrance” and Atonement (Yom Kippur)  
>  Adkhâtnurt = Rest day (Sabbath)
> 
> ~*~
> 
> Hope you enjoyed the chapter! Let me know via kudos or comments, or you can find me [here on tumblr](http://cersei-the-truth-bombardier.tumblr.com). Thanks for reading!


	3. Chapter 3

Sigrid woke on Saturday before any of the rest of her family. She had hardly slept the night before either; after her pigeon returned with nothing late that night, she purposefully stayed awake as long as she could, hoping not to miss a raven at the window. Fíli had never had an issue sending his response back with her bird, but perhaps as this was slightly more important, he’d prefer to send an official raven? None had come, or at least, none waited for her when she finally opened her eyes against the thin light of dawn. 

“Blast.”

She rose as gently as she could from the bed she’d begun to share with Tilda, slipped on another pair of socks, and padded downstairs to make some tea. Surely if she only got to work, it would be interrupted by a raven. Surely.

So she put a kettle on, and rekindled the fire in the belly of the oven. She pulled the dead blooms off the mums that sat in the kitchen window, and dumped last night’s tea leaves in the pail for composting. The kettle whistled and she added new tea leaves, then found a scone to nibble on while it steeped. Everything was fine.

It wasn’t _that_ unusual that she hadn’t received a reply from Prince Fíli yet. After all, it was getting dark when she sent her pigeon out, and he had probably been too busy, or tired, to write anything back. And it was still early now. It would still be at least another hour before anyone else was up. His reply would come during breakfast, surely.

So she poured her tea and mixed up some biscuits, fried up some sausage and made some gravy. She let the smell wake the rest of her family and sat by the window, letting the steam from her tea fog the glass while the first sounds of stirring filtered down from the bedrooms.

Her da arrived first, followed shortly by Tilda. “You’re up early,” Bard commented lightly as he helped himself and Tilda both to breakfast.

“Mm.”

He spared a longer look at her then. “Are you all right, Sig?”.

Sigrid couldn’t pull her eyes away from the window. “Hm? Oh, yes, fine. I didn’t sleep well last night, is all.” 

“You aren’t joking!” Tilda complained. “You wouldn’t stop rolling around and kicking me!”

“I wasn’t kicking you, I was nudging you back to your side of the bed.”

“With your foot! Hard!”

“Gently,” Sigrid argued back, “because you are a mattress hog!”

“If _I’m_ a mattress hog, _you’re_ a mattress _mule!”_

“Girls!” their da barked, hand already at his temple. “Don’t start this so early, _please?_ It’s Saturday, you have the day off school, you’re supposed to take it easy.”

Bain clomped down the stairs and dished himself up a generous helping of biscuits and gravy. “So Sig, you get a raven back from Fíli yet?”

_“Prince_ Fíli,” Tilda corrected without lifting her eyes from her breakfast.

“I have not,” Sigrid answered evenly, hiding her disappointment in the bottom of her mug.

“That’s curious,” he prodded.

She sighed and moved to the stove to refill her mug. “It isn’t. I’m sure my pigeon didn’t get to the Mountain until after dark. He may… humor me, by answering my letters, but he is a very busy person, and he certainly doesn’t have any obligation to write back immediately.”

“Well you’ll have to let me know as soon as you hear back,” Bard cut in. He scraped the last bits of gravy out of the bottom of his bowl and stood, kissing the top of Tilda’s head. “I need to go meet with some of King Thranduil’s staff this morning. Maybe someday we’ll all have a day off together, hm?”

Sigrid really wasn’t sure where her da got this idea of a “day off” anyway. She had plenty to do at home, all the time, every day. It was a good thing, too, otherwise she might have spent the day brooding. Instead she scoured the stove and oven within an inch of its life, washed all the linens, washed the windows, and even washed Tilda’s hair, combed it out, and wove it into a braid across her crown. She swept and mopped every floor in the house, and really, truly, absolutely did not look out the window more than once every hour.

All right, so it was more like every three minutes. She had always been an anxious cleaner. At least it passed the time in a productive way! Better than driving herself mad over whatever she said in that letter that could possibly have given Fíli offense. She had tried to make very clear that she did not think herself entitled to any information he did not want to give, but perhaps that hadn’t been clear enough. She only wanted to help, wasn’t that obvious? In times like these she felt utterly unprepared to be the princess of Dale (for even though she was called “Lady,” that was what she was, and she could never forget it). Sigrid’s strengths lay bartering with the butcher, not dancing around the egos of kings.

It was very nearly dark when her da came home to dinner. He’d barely had time to swallow his first bite before he was asking, “So, what was the prince’s response?”

“I… Haven’t had one, yet,” she answered, bracing for his reaction.

“What are they up to?” Bard complained to the table settings, who resolutely refused to answer. “This is highly unusual. The next time I see one of those Durins I swear I’ll--”

“Calm down, Da,” Bain sighed, poking at the parsnips as if they’d bite back. “It’s their day off for pity’s sakes. They’re ignoring their work for the day, like normal people. I dare say you could learn something from them.”

Sigrid looked between her brother and her da warily. Since when was Bain so eager to be reasonable? 

“Aye, Da,” Tilda chirped. “You work too much.”

Bard sighed. “Children, you know that I’d love to spend the day at home with you, but I just can’t!”

“What would be the worst that could happen?” Bain asked. “Someone has to settle their dispute by themselves? A treaty sits on your desk one more day before being signed? Sure, there are emergencies, but honestly, Da.”

“Da, please,” Sigrid jumped in, eager to push the change in subject along. “Just give the Dwarves another day. The wind’s awful today besides, give their birds the benefit of the doubt. Eat your dinner.” Honestly, if she never again reminded her father to eat, it would be too soon.

Bard leaned back in his chair and looked at them all somewhat proudly. “Aye, you’re right. You’re _all_ right. Let’s finish dinner, and see if we can’t find that deck of cards. It’s high time Tilda learned how to play Kings in the Corners.”

+++

Sigrid was absolutely not worried at breakfast the next day when she found no bird at her window, even though she stayed in bed as long as she could. And she definitely didn’t think about whether the raven would find her when she went down to the market to pick up supplies for dinner. When lunch came and went with no bird, it was not a problem at all, of course, everyone is busy this time of year getting ready for winter, and really, she had more important things to worry about than whether or not a stupid raven got lost.

As Sigrid rolled out the dough for their dinner of pot pies, she finally allowed herself to admit she was really truly anxious. Maybe the empty-handed pigeon _was_ his message. Had she truly overstepped her boundaries? Usually Fíli would gently tell her _That’s not how things are done here,_ or, _I’d love to but I have important responsibilities._ Never had he been terse with her and never had he waited so long to send a response. Even if he was slammed with work he still took a moment to write her a quick note.

She was so wrapped up in her worries and her task that Bain had to run in from the other room to open the window for the big black bird. The blast of cold yanked her back into the present and she nearly dropped her rolling pin. “What the--?”

“You were too busy worrying about when you’d see your answer from the prince you didn’t even notice you’d got it,” Bain teased. “What’s it say?”

Sigrid took the folded paper from the bird and offered it a scrap of chicken, then cracked the wax seal and scanned the letter. “This is for me…”

“Aye, I’m not daft, I saw your name on the front of it.”

“No, I mean, they sent another, proper letter to Da. The raven must have found him in town. This is… Well, they’ve invited us up to the Mountain, for a holiday. Sounds like it’s a very important one, serious customs, that sort of thing. He’d never say as much, but I can tell he wants me to make sure Da behaves himself.”

“I’m sure he’ll understand,” Bain answered, scritching at the raven absently. “Perhaps you oughtn’t let him find that note though.”

Sigrid nodded, reading through the letter one last time. 

_Please do not ever think that you would be a burden, you couldn’t possibly be._

Her cheeks warmed; this was the first time he had ended any of his correspondences so informally. 

_**Yours** _

The word burned brightly on the page, as if written in some magical ink. Turning her back to her brother, she tore the bottom off the paper and shoved it in her pocket before stuffing the rest into the oven fire. 

“Well, Bain,” she said, turning back to him. “Guess we’d better pack our bags!”

~*~

Fíli swept down the hallway as quickly as he could. Bard and his family had arrived while he was in the bath, and he was still fastening a bead in his hair as he skidded around the last corner on the way to the Great Hall.

He felt so exposed as he approached the visiting party from Dale. His usual thick leather jerkin had been replaced with a simple dark blue cotton tabard, belted with a length of silk. His heavy leather boots were left by the door of his rooms, and he wore only a pair of simple slippers. There were only a couple of blades tucked in his sash. He might as well be naked. 

Not to mention he had invited the object of his affections into one of the most intensely personal experiences of his life. Zannu Adrâf was so uniquely Dwarfish, so unlike anything Sigrid had probably ever done, and it was entirely about fixing relationships. He only hoped it wouldn’t ruin theirs before they even had a chance. What if she thought it was all stupid? What if she laughed too? He groaned as the doors to the Great Hall came into view. Why had he opened himself up to this? Why had he let Kíli talk him into bringing the Men up here? If they laughed at them, or left in disgust, Fíli didn’t think he’d be able to bear it.

That was why he’d put off his own preparations in the first place. He could have been ready to meet Lord Bard when they’d first arrived, but instead he let Thorin and Balin do it. Officially speaking it had been Thorin’s idea anyway, so it was only proper, right?

Kíli emerged from another corridor and easily fell into step beside him. “I’m surprised you weren’t there when the Men arrived.”

“I couldn’t find my slippers.”

“But of course,” he replied smoothly. “I made sure they ate when they got here, and Ori’s bringing them down to the Great Hall. Did _you_ eat anything?”

Fíli grimaced. He’d spent all his time worrying, and hadn’t even thought to have his last snack before sundown. 

“Seriously?” Kíli clucked his tongue. “Eighty years of chiding and reminding me, and now you forget? Well it’ll be a long day for you then.”

They pushed through the doors to the Great Hall and took in the sight before them. Nearly every Dwarf in Erebor sat congregated around a small dais where Thorin and Balin sat. The visitors from Dale sat in the front row, flanked by the rest of Thorin’s company. There were two more chairs on the platform for Fíli and Kíli, and Fíli was surprised to see his mother sitting there as well. “When did Mother get here?” he hissed as they headed towards the dais. “Who sent for her?”

“It was her own idea,” Kíli whispered back, smiling at the assembly as they climbed the steps. “She just showed up.”

Great. One more thing on his mind. Nevertheless Fíli smiled and nodded at his mother as they took their seats. Now facing Bard and his family, he could see that they had taken his letters seriously. Everyone looked nice but Sigrid kept drawing his eye. Her hair was woven into a simple plait that fell over her shoulder, and her dress was beautiful, sky blue, the only ornamentation some embroidery around the square neck. 

She was turned away from him, shushing Tilda who was bouncing in her chair. Whatever she’d said had worked, though, and she faced forward again. When she saw Fíli, her whole face brightened and she waved her fingers at him. He grinned back and acknowledged her with a nod; it was all he could spare, sitting in front of everyone like that. It still didn’t save him from Kíli’s elbow in his side as the lefamuinbar sounded, the horn ringing loudly in the high ceilings of the hall.

Balin rose to his feet. “Ahlut gayad ni Magal ra mukhuh tadâ mi akrâg natagyildîn,” he called out, voice clear. 

“Iglî zai agyâd, sullu mamunûsumudtuân,” Fíli chorused with everyone else. It was finally starting to feel like a proper holiday.

Balin repeated their opening lines for the benefit of their guests, apparently as invested as Fíli was in this experiment’s success. “Take joy in Mahal and may those with honour rejoice together; shout with happiness, all those who are loyal of heart.” 

As he continued into the rest of his speech, Fíli settled back to listen, ready to enjoy his favorite holiday for the first time as Crown Prince Under the Mountain. Yet his mind kept drifting to their guests. He looked back over to Sigrid and met her eyes. She smiled, quickly looked back to her lap, and he pulled his gaze back to Balin. Why hadn’t he gotten his act together earlier? He should have been there to greet her, or rather, them, when they had first arrived. Now he would have to wait until the night’s events were over until he could talk to her. If only he could figure out how to keep from staring at her the entire time.

~*~

Sigrid had had no idea the Dwarves were so spiritual. The only clue she’d ever gotten was the stern warning in Fíli’s letters that week. All of Dale knew that the Dwarves took their rest as seriously as their work (never once had an Ereborian Dwarf opened their shop on a Saturday, no matter how many sales they’d miss), but this element of reverence for Mahal took her a bit by surprise.

She suspected that Balin chose to speak in their common tongue on purpose; certainly this ritual was usually done in Khuzdul. It was interesting, though. She didn’t have anything like this in her life. Sure, there was a general sort of non-specific knowledge of Eru having made the world, and of course one wanted to be a good person, so on and so forth, but she had more pressing issues on her mind day-to-day than whether or not some great mystical being was paying any attention to her. Holidays were about family and community and food, not some ancient story.

The Dwarves were different. Or, these Dwarves were, at any rate. Aulë -- _Mahal --_ was really important to them, and they were committed to living how he wanted them to live. From what she could gather, this holiday was about making things right between one’s self and Mahal, or among one’s neighbors. Well, that seemed reasonable. It certainly couldn’t hurt to have a special day for it. And the atmosphere in the hall was so… holy. She definitely saw the appeal.

Tilda was having trouble sitting still, which was unsurprising as she’d never really attended anything like this before. None of them had. At least Sigrid’s inattention was quiet and still, and borne from distraction rather than boredom. Prince Fíli was sitting behind Balin, and looked just, well, _so handsome_. He seemed smaller, sitting there without all the layers of leather and weapons he normally wore, no boots wrapped up to his knees, hands folded in his lap. He was listening to Balin earnestly, a small smile peeking out from under his mustache. Sigrid was unused to seeing him in colors, as he so often opted for dark leather, but the blue was very becoming.

A shift in the cadence of Balin’s voice: his speech was coming to a close. She listened as everyone chorused in Khuzdul again, and then suddenly the assembly was rising from their seats, greeting each other, and making their way out of the hall to wherever else they needed to be. Tilda jumped to her feet and ran over to Bofur, chatting animatedly about their trip up from Dale. Bain was greeted by Oin, who had evidently been quite impressed by not only his bravery but his knowledge of plants back on the night the dragon attacked.

Sigrid stood, trying to keep from wringing her hands too awkwardly, not sure what to do with her body. She felt over-large, sticking out painfully as Dwarves bustled about around her, several barely coming up to her chest. She put on the most serene smile she could muster and pretended to listen to whatever conversation her father was having. She hated crowds, or any event like this one. When they’d crowned her father she’d had no idea what to do with herself, and now felt no different. She should probably find someone and strike up a conversation, but how, and whom? 

Suddenly she felt a gentle touch on her elbow. “Lady Sigrid,” Fíli said, smiling at her like there was no place he’d rather be. “I’m so glad you came.”

“Prince Fíli!” She smoothed her skirts down and clasped her hands in front of herself again (why did she never know what to do with her hands?), but couldn’t keep from smiling back. “Thank you, um, for the invitation. It’s wonderful to be here, to see what Erebor really looks like under all that rock. What I’ve seen so far has been absolutely beautiful!”

“Oh, thank you. I hope this evening’s events didn’t bore you too much.”

“No, of course not,” Sigrid replied hastily. Had she looked bored? She really hadn’t wanted to appear anything but interested. “Did it look like I-- well Tilda is just a child, you know, unused to sitting still for quite so long, please don’t read into that too much. And sometimes that’s just how my face looks, I can’t always help it--”

Fíli held up a hand. “Sigrid, no, please, that’s not what I meant. I just, well, I hope you’re enjoying yourself so far.” 

“Oh! Oh, yes, of course. Yes, very much.” She took a breath, trying to calm down. “Everyone was very kind when we got here, and the apartments you have for guests are quite comfortable.”

Fíli winced. “I had hoped to be there to greet you; I’m sorry I missed your arrival. Perhaps tomorrow I could show you more of the Mountain? I’m given to understand you’ve only really been here and the living quarters.” He smiled up at her. “I can show you how nice it can be to live under ‘all that rock.’”

She chuckled, happy he hadn’t taken offense at her choice in words. “That sounds lovely! It will be good to give Tilda something a bit more, hm, _active,_ to do, and I’m sure Bain would love to see the forges.”

In the moment of silence that followed, the smile drained out of Fíli’s eyes. “Of course!” he answered, a bit late.

Had she said something wrong? Oh this ‘diplomatic relations’ stuff was for the birds. “Or, you know, whatever you had planned, I’m sure would be just wonderful.” Sigrid clasped her hands in front of herself again, picking at her thumbnail. Leave it to her to say something wrong on the most important day of Fíli’s year. She looked down. Now she was getting a proper hangnail. Served her right.

“Sigrid,” her da called over Fíli’s shoulder. “We’d better be getting back up to our rooms, hm? It’s been a long day.”

She looked over to her sister, who was blearily rubbing her eyes. “All right, sis?” Tilda stuck her tongue out, but her silly face quickly broke into a yawn. “That’s what I thought,” Sigrid laughed. “Let’s go, sweet.” 

“Allow me to escort you,” Fíli said, offering up his arm for Sigrid to take. “I know how hard it can be to find one’s way, at first.”

“Oh! Um,” Sigrid slipped her hand under his arm and rested on his bicep loosely. “Thank you, Prince Fíli.” Heat radiated off him in waves, and the thin cotton of his shirt did nothing to hide the firm lines of muscle built by years of smithing and fighting. Her fingers curled into the loose fabric, and she tried desperately to think of something clever to talk about while they walked.

Fíli seemed happy to fill in the gaps for her, though. He started leading them all out of the hall, chatting animatedly of how he, Kíli and Ori had been the only ones never to have seen Erebor when they’d first arrived. They’d spent most of the first month completely at the mercy of their uncles and cousins, until finally they’d been able to convince Thorin to let them carve some symbols into the walls at intersections. He pointed them out as they walked; a hammer, an axe, an anvil, a rune. 

Bard and Bain dragged Tilda along, trying to keep her feet moving along with Fíli and Sigrid, but it was a losing battle. Eventually Bard knelt down and Tilda clambered up to ride piggy-back the rest of the way, though he and Bain remained far behind. She looked back briefly to check, and wondered if Da was giving her this kind of space on purpose. When they finally turned down a long hallway full of doors, Fíli paused in front of the second on the right. 

“This is where I leave you,” he murmured, turning to face Sigrid.

Reluctantly she let her arm fall away from his as he moved, the heat between them evaporating in an instant. “Thank you, Prince Fíli,” she answered just as quietly.

“Please,” he asked, looking down to take her hand in both of his. “Just ‘Fíli’ is fine.”

“Fíli,” she repeated, testing it out. His hands were huge, easily covering her own, and just as warm as the rest of him.

After a moment, Fíli spoke again. “If you’d like, I can meet you here in the morning? There’s no breakfast, of course, but we could find something for Tilda if you need.”

“I’d like that.” 

After a rather pregnant pause, the soft footfalls of the rest of her family announced their approach. She realized Fíli was still holding her hand. She looked from their joined hands up to his eyes, watched his tongue dart out to wet his lips. Was she imagining the tension? Was it wishful thinking?

Fíli cleared his throat and smiled, dropping her hand just as Bain came around the corner.

“Well you two rather outran us at the end there, didn’t you?” he asked cheerfully, shouldering the third door open. “G’night, Prince Fíli!” The door closed solidly behind him and Bard was suddenly on the other side of Sigrid, gingerly depositing Tilda back onto the ground. 

“Thank you for the escort back, Prince Fíli,” Bard said, looking between the two of them with a knowing smile. “Tonight has been very… enlightening.”

“It was my pleasure,” Fíli answered smoothly. “I was just telling Lady Sigrid that I can come by in the morning, if you like, and we can raid the pantry for Tilda.

The younger girl huffed. “If you can do it, I can do it! I’m big enough!” 

“We’ll see,” Bard placated, reaching over her to open the door. “Now get ready for bed.” As Tilda sulked off to get into her pajamas, Bard shook Fíli’s hand firmly. “I think that’s a wise idea,” he admitted, voice hushed. “Good night, Prince Fíli.”

As the third door clicked shut again, Sigrid cleared her throat. “Thank you again, P-- _Fíli_ , I think this will do wonders for my da’s disposition. It’s quite an honor to experience this holiday with you.”

Fíli smiled and took her hand again, brushing a kiss over her knuckles. The beads in his mustache knocked against the top of her hand as he lowered it again and replied, “The honor is ours, Sigrid.” 

She was sure she was beet red, face betraying the butterflies swooping low in her stomach. “Good night, Fíli,” she managed, and reached behind her to open the door to the rooms she and Tilda were sharing.

“Good night,” he answered, then headed off further down the hallway to whichever door was his.

Sigrid went inside and shut the door, leaned against it for a moment, then promptly slid all the way to the ground with her knees tucked under her chin. So _that_ had just happened. Surely they were beyond friendly courtesy now. After all, he’d asked her to stop using his title. And the way he’d kissed her hand, lingering just a bit too long, well. She couldn’t possibly be reading too much into that, could she? 

She slipped her hand into her pocket and ran her hand over the piece of parchment she’d saved from Fíli’s letter. _Yours._ For an entire year Sigrid had dreamed and hoped and wished that someday he would want her the way she wanted him. And Fíli was never one to play loose with his words; no, he always made sure to say exactly what he meant. _Yours._ Did that mean Fíli wished it too?

“Sig, you coming? Or do I have to blow out the lamps without you?” Tilda’s voice was impatient.

Perhaps that explained why he’d made that funny look when she’d talked about her siblings coming with her on the tour of the Mountain. 

“Sigrid?”

Had he been hoping to take her alone? With no supervision? Oh, that wasn’t proper at all. 

_“Sigrid!”_

No, it wasn’t proper at all. But it certainly was thrilling.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Khuzdul Translations_
> 
> Zannu Adrâf = *vague handwaving* roughly, Day of Remembrance and Atonement (Yom Kippur)  
>  lefamuinbar = horn instrument (shofar)  
>  Ahlut gayad ni Magal ra mukhuh tadâ mi akrâg natagyildîn = Take joy in Mahal and may those with honour rejoice together   
>  Iglî zai agyâd, sullu mamunûsumudtuân = Shout with happiness, all those who are loyal of heart  
> 
> 
> ~*~
> 
> Hope you enjoyed the chapter! Let me know via kudos or comments, or you can find me [here on tumblr](http://cersei-the-truth-bombardier.tumblr.com). Thanks for reading!


	4. Chapter 4

_**Chapter 4 (3797)** _

Well, it wasn’t a complete fucking disaster. 

Not yet, anyway. Thorin had seemed in high spirits, Bard and his family had certainly behaved themselves, and Sigrid? Fíli sighed, looking over at her across the room full of people. Sigrid had been perfect. Careful and kind and... And when he’d walked them back after the first Zannu Adrâf ceremony, Fíli had gotten the feeling that all his hopes about her feelings for him were actually coming true.

He hadn’t been sure, especially when she’d invited her siblings along to tour the Mountain with them, but then she’d blushed so prettily when he kissed her hand. He _had_ to be onto something. Now if he could just get some time with her away from their families. It had been a pleasant surprise to see his mother on the dais last night, but he’d be lying if he said it didn’t throw a wrench in his plans for the day. Now Dís sat between him and Kíli as Oin and Gloin took their turns addressing the assembly. She flicked his thigh and gave him a look. 

Fíli dragged his attention back to the proceedings, which were obviously coming to an end, thank the Maker. 

“Ahlut gayad ni Magal ra mukhuh tadâ mi akrâg natagyildîn,” Oin said reverently.

Gloin provided the reply, “Iglî zai agyâd, sullu mamunûsumudtuân.”

A moment passed, and Thorin stood. The morning ceremony was over. Fíli and Kíli rose as well, and embraced their mother tightly. 

“I’m so glad you came up for this,” Kíli sighed happily. 

“Yes, you really surprised us,” Fíli added.

“Well,” Dís shrugged. “I wanted to be with my sons on the most important day of the year. Of course, one of them seems a little, hm, distracted?”

Kíli chuckled under his breath as Fíli sputtered. “Distracted? I’m sure I don’t know what you mean, Mother.”

“Hm, I’m sure you don’t,” she replied breezily, turning towards the rest of the assembly. Bard and Sigrid were laughing at something Bofur was saying, and Tilda was entertaining Ori with her repertoire of silly faces. Bain was doing his best to look coolly disinterested, but he was clearly listening carefully to what Bifur and Bombur were talking about.

“Lord Bard and his family look lovely,” Dís said, as if there was something she was also not saying. “Why don’t you introduce me, Fíli?”

Fíli looked to his brother, who shrugged back at him. Together they escorted their mother down off of the dais and approached Bofur, Bard and Sigrid.

“So then we’re just hanging there in these pine trees, taller than I’d ever seen, wargs barking up at us. So Gandalf has this brilliant idea to take these pinecones and-- Oh, hello,” Bofur grinned at them.

“Excuse us, Bofur,” Fíli apologized, clapping a hand on his shoulder. “Please allow me to introduce my mother, Her Royal Highness Princess Dís of the Blue Mountains. Mother, this is Lord Bard, King of Dale, and his daughter, Lady Sigrid.” 

Bard smiled and gave a little half bow, and Sigrid curtseyed with wide eyes. “A pleasure to meet you, Princess,” Bard replied. “Our visit so far has been truly...enlightening.”

“Ohoh, Bard please, just ‘Dís’ will do. I hope we can be good friends.” She offered her hand to him easily, grinning through the dark braided beard. “My goodness, Sigrid, the embroidery on your dress is lovely. Is it your work?”

Sigrid looked down at what she was wearing. “What? Oh, um, yes, it is. Thank you very much!”

“Ah, see, _my_ mother insisted I focus on the sword. Said my hands were made for weapons, not dainty work like that.” Dís held her hands up to display short fingers and broad palms. “I always envied those who could use their hands to make such beauty, rather than wage war. You have quite a gift, young lady.”

Bard beamed down at Sigrid as she looked at her hands, then back up at Dís. “Thank you,” she murmured, obviously pleased. “You’re too kind.” 

“Perhaps some time you can show me a few things,” Dís chuckled, patting Sigrid gently on the shoulder. She looked over to Tilda, who collapsed into a fit of giggles at some joke Ori and Dori were telling her. It must have been truly funny; even Bain couldn’t keep the grin off his face. “What a truly lovely family you have, Bard,” she added. “I hope you enjoy your stay this Zannu Adrâf. Now I need to speak with my dearest brother. Please excuse me.”

As she left, Kíli clapped his hands together. “All right, Bardlings, what do you say we take a little tour of the Mountain, hm?”

~*~

An hour later, Sigrid still felt her ears burning. Fíli and Kíli’s mother had been wonderful, kind and charming and really, quite effusive with her praise. It felt rather nice. She wasn’t used to people noticing her like that. When she was still just “Sigrid, that bargeman’s girl,” no one gave her the time of day, and once “that bargeman” had been declared king, she mostly felt like so much window dressing. Sometimes “Lady Sigrid” was recognized in the markets but even then, she didn’t feel like anyone truly saw _her._

Dís had not only noticed her, but pointed out something she was secretly quite proud of. She’d learned to embroider on scraps of shirt tails and her mother’s old dishtowels, sneaking strands of thread from shops here and there. It passed the time, gave her something to do while she listened to Tilda practice her sums. Once she could do a pattern consistently, she’d started adding them here or there as she took in the seams of clothing handed down to her siblings from her or her Da. Sometimes the shirt would almost look new, bright colors disguising ancient hand-me-down stains. Sometimes they could almost be proud of what they wore.

When she became Lady Sigrid, she’d been careful to carve out time for her favorite hobby. It kept her calm and grounded when everything was hectic. Now they had the means for good strong thread that didn’t knot at every pass or lose its color in the wash. Her designs were more intricate and vibrant than ever, and a _princess_ had noticed.

“All right!” Kíli announced, breaking into Sigrid’s thoughts like a rock through a window. “So from here we can either turn left towards the armory--” he waggled his eyebrows, “--or right towards the conference rooms.” He gave Tilda an exaggerated pout, making it quite clear to the child what the fun option would be.

She clapped her hands together eagerly, bouncing on her toes. “The armory! The armory! I want to see all the shiny swords, _please, Sigrid?”_

“Hm, I don’t know,” Sigrid tapped her chin as if deep in thought. “It might be too dangerous for a little girl, don’t you think? Conference rooms sound very interesting to me.” She looked to Fíli, who let the hint of a smile across his lips.

Tilda huffed and flung her arms around Kíli’s waist. “Prince Kíli won’t let _anything_ happen to me, will you?”

Bain just rolled his eyes. “As if you’d even be able to lift a Dwarfish sword, Tilly.”

“Well we’ll have to go see, won’t we?” Kíli grinned and turned his back to Tilda, crouching low. “Up you get! We have ground to cover!” She hopped up onto his back, gripping his waist tightly with her legs, and he started off in a trot.

“Hey, wait up!” Bain called, and jogged after them.

Sigrid watched them leave, shaking her head. She’d only managed one step in their direction when she felt a hand on her elbow. 

“Lady Sigrid,” Fíli began in a hushed tone. “I was wondering if you might allow me to show you a different corner of the mountain?”

“I suppose...” She linked her arm with the one he offered and let him lead her to the right, away from the armory. He was quiet, and kept stealing looks at her when he thought she wasn’t paying attention. Perhaps she had misunderstood…? After a moment she gathered her courage and spoke again, her voice coming out much higher in pitch than she’d liked. “Though before we get too far along here I feel I should ask you what exactly you have in mind?” Heat flushed in her cheeks and chest. Oh how wonderfully obvious.

“Wha-- Oh! No! Certainly I would never-- Well, I don’t mean _never,_ I just mean that-- What I’m trying to say is...” Fíli stopped himself, took a breath, and started again. “I wanted to talk to you, privately, and I think that the best place to do it is… here.” 

Sigrid looked up to find that they had arrived at a plain door at the end of a hallway. Fíli shouldered it open to reveal a staircase that led down from the landing. Warm light glowed from whatever room was just beyond. “Come,” he murmured, holding out a hand. 

She took it gingerly and picked up her skirts so she wouldn’t trip on the way down. His hand was warm, just like the rest of him, and dry. She hoped her palm wasn’t sweating too much; they had never been alone together, never been so close, save the time right after the Battle when she’d checked in on him in the medical tents. Of course, he’d been completely unconscious. In those days she’d often taken his broad hand between her two small ones, wishing that she could kiss the life back into him. She’d tried, too, pressing prayers into the battered skin of his knuckles, or along the gash in his forehead, whenever the healers had stepped out. But surely he wouldn’t remember that. Perhaps that was best.

When the stairs turned and opened into the room, Sigrid looked up only to fill her vision with gold. The huge throne room was teeming with it. There were coins and dishes and jewelry and rough ore and bars and gems and it was just too much. “This is… I never thought there was this much gold in the entire world. Why did you bring me here?” she gasped, pulling her hand away. No wonder the dragon had come. This was sick. This was absolutely sick. No one kingdom should have this kind of riches, and certainly no one person. Her vision swam as she looked over the entire room, and she pressed a hand against the wall to steady herself.

Fíli stepped into the room, his heavy boots sending coins scattering with every footfall. “You know of the gold sickness that plagued my grandfather’s father, Thror.” 

“Aye,” she breathed, trying to keep the judgment out of her tone. “Everyone does.” 

“Aye,” he echoed. “Everyone does. And my uncle watched it happen, too. But it didn’t save him.” He kicked at a goblet, sending it skittering down a huge pile of wealth. “Actually, Thorin didn’t even have to see the gold to start feeling the sickness. Did you know?”

Sigrid watched him carefully. He’d stuffed his hands in his pockets and wasn’t meeting her eyes. This was very odd, and the yellow at every corner of her vision threw her completely off-kilter. “No, I didn’t.”

“The day he left us in Lake Town was the day I realized it. He was so focused on getting to Erebor in time to find that stupid moon door that he barely seemed to care that Kíli was about to die.”

“Fíli--”

“He nearly threw Bilbo off the parapet when he told us he’d stolen the Arkenstone.”

“The what? Wait, he _what?”_ Sigrid gaped. Though gruff with most everyone in Lake Town, Thorin had seemed so fond of the Hobbit. “Fíli, why are you telling me this?”

“I think Thorin has beaten back the sickness, at least for now. But I’m afraid it may have started to affect me too.” Fíli turned and stepped back towards her. “Zannu Adrâf is a time of remembrance, and atonement. I believe Thorin means to atone with your father, with Dale, and is likely doing so now. I want to atone myself to you.” 

“Fíli, I don’t understand,” she said. “You aren’t making any sense.” Sigrid looked down at her feet. The dark stone of the landing was an island in that ocean of gold, and it sounded like Fíli was drowning in it. She hadn’t been scared like this in a long time. What was he trying to say?

“I haven’t always treated you as you deserve, Sigrid,” he answered. “It’s been on my mind this entire year. I can’t tell you how many times I have put pen to paper, only to give up halfway through because it never seemed right to do it in a letter. I could never find the right words, I…” Fíli paused, looked down, then met her eyes again. “I brought you here so I could show you what it was all for. We came to your father, to you, and you clothed us and fed us and hid us from the Master as long as you could. Then when Thorin left and I brought my brother back to your Da, you didn’t even bat an eye. You just warmed some broth and made room on the table. And in return, all we brought was orcs to ransack your house, and a dragon to destroy your town.”

“Fíli, none of that is your fault.” 

The torches reflecting off all the metal cast a strange light over Fíli’s face. “Perhaps not. Yet I am certainly responsible for my actions thereafter. As soon as we landed on the banks of Dale, we shoved you and Tilda out of the boat without so much as a ‘How do you do?’ In fact, I was annoyed with Kíli for taking so long to bid farewell to the Elf. All I could think was how badly I needed to get to the mountain.” He bowed his head and spoke the last words into his chest. “It’s shameful how little I cared for your safety. I am truly sorry.”

“Fíli…” How was Sigrid supposed to answer that? She shifted from foot to foot, hugging herself. This had clearly been weighing on his mind for some time. “I’m a grown woman, I’d been taking care of myself and my sister all by myself for years,” she pointed out softly. “We did just fine. Bain and Da found us.”

He pursed his lips, shook his head. “I should have at least helped you find them-- No, the _least_ I should have done was said ‘thank you.’ You helped save my brother’s life, all our lives really, with the boat.” His face twisted in guilt. ”Which we then stole to get back to the mountain.”

“Come now, Fíli, that’s all in the past.” She reached out to him, stepping gingerly onto the gold floor. Coins and gems slipped under her feet like the stones on the beach, and her arm swung straight out to help her keep balance. “It’s all right. I’m all right.” All she wanted was to hold him close and make him believe it.

He took her hand and led her further out onto the vast sea of riches. For a moment the only sound was the the gentle tinkle of metal on metal as they wandered through the room. Finally Fíli spoke again. “Thank you, Sigrid, for helping us when we most needed it. I’m so very sorry that I did not tell you on the beach, and that I did not do more to ensure your security.” 

They turned around a pillar and she almost tripped over a trunk wedged among a pile of rubies. “Oof!” Her foot against the box sent the lid flying open, revealing all sorts of necklaces, bracelets, and other jewelry. “Oh my-- I’m sorry!”

Fíli let out a little laugh. “It’s fine. This place isn’t exactly orderly. What’s one more open box among hundreds?”

“Oh…” Sigrid knelt down and picked up one of the pieces, a sapphire pendant on a delicate gold chain no wider than a fishing line. It was gorgeous, so completely out of place among the garish hoard.

“Do you like it?”

She blew out a puff of air and placed it back in the box. “Of course I do. I’ve never seen anything so fine in my entire life.” 

“Take it. Mahal himself knows there’s enough here to go around.” 

“I couldn’t,” she laughed, slapping the lid of the box closed. “Don’t be silly.”

“Please,” he murmured, kneeling down next to her. “Think of it as… the first step towards making things right.” He opened the case again but she just shook her head. 

“Fíli, if there’s anything that Balin and Thranduil and Elrond and _everyone_ has taught me, it’s that anything I do can be seen as some sort of diplomatic statement.” She rolled her eyes at the term. “Now, I’m just a simple girl from Lake Town, fairly new to this whole royalty business, but even I know that taking jewelry from a prince means something… more…” She drifted off, seeing the look in his eyes soften. “Unless. Is that… what you want?”

He shifted closer to her and reached out to sweep a piece of hair away from her eyes. The movement all too easily ended with him cupping her cheek. “Sigrid, I…”

Her heart flipped and she couldn’t help but lean into his touch. He was so gentle, and so, so close, and he was looking at her mouth like it was all he wanted in the entire world. Sigrid gulped, and licked her lips. She had literally just reminded the both of them that their every action had repercussions; would this be worth it? He leaned in, just the slightest bit, and all she could hear in that huge empty room was her heart pounding. 

Oh, but she wanted him. She’d wanted him ever since she’d found him in the medical tent after the battle, ever since he’d returned her first letter she’d been nearly too terrified to send when he’d taken his place under the mountain. How bad could it be if she took what she wanted, just this once? Her head was swimming with the heat of the torches and him so close, the yellow gold filling every spare corner of her vision, the deep, pulsing want low in her belly.

His thumb rubbed over her cheekbone and she breathed out, shut her eyes, and closed the distance between them. His lips were sweet, and soft, and he moved them so gently over hers. The only thing she could focus on was the scratch of his calloused palm on her cheek, and the roughness of his beard under her hand as she reached up to feel it. His lips parted, and she couldn’t help the sigh that escaped her when his tongue swept over her bottom lip. She felt his grip on her hair tighten at the sound, and a new wave of heat rolled over her body. Sigrid was completely sunk. This was all she ever wanted to do for the rest of her life.

“Well I have to admit, I didn’t think I would find you here, of all places.” 

Sigrid fell back on her arse, legs swinging out to the side as she launched herself away from Fíli. She looked up to the landing where Kíli stood, and resisted the urge to wipe her mouth. 

“Kíli!” Fíli croaked. “What do you want?”

“Well, my original quest was to remind you what time it was and invite you back to the great hall,” he began, chuckling to himself as he climbed down the stairs towards them. “But now I’m thinking that Mahal sent me just in time to save you from yourself. Whatever happened to ‘no sexual contact on Zannu Adrâf,’ my dear brother?”

Sigrid gasped. “What do you-- I never-- I certainly hadn’t meant anything of the sort!” She rose to her feet, careful of the slippery coins. “Oh Valar, are you saying we have to get married now? Shit, what is my father going to say?” 

Sexual contact?! She never should have let Fíli bring her down here. Never should have listened to her stupid, _stupid_ body. She should have known better. Another step, and her foot swept out from under her. An avalanche of precious metals went careening down the hill they’d climbed and it took every ounce of concentration not to fall back down.

“Whoa, slow down, Lady Sigrid,” Kíli said, raising his hands. 

“Sigrid, please, just, wait a moment!” Fíli clambered after her, but his feet slipped out from under him as the treasure shifted, and he landed hard on his face.

How had she managed to muck things up this badly? She should have known it was trouble, following him away from everyone else. Sweat prickled on her forehead, and she anxiously wiped damp palms on her skirt as she tried to get her breathing back under control. She felt sick, like the time she’d gotten drunk with her mates on some wine they’d pilfered from the Master, but had sobered up too quickly when Da had caught them on the docks. Her vision narrowed.

“This is not entirely my fault, you know,” she scolded, turning back to point an accusing finger at Fíli as he clambered back to his feet. “Is there anything _else_ I don’t know about Dwarfish culture, Fíli, that you may have _forgotten_ to tell me? I thought it was just a kiss! It didn’t mean anything! Unless it did and you didn't tell me before you--”

“Lady Sigrid--”

She spun around recklessly fast, and the light bouncing off all the coins and the jewelry and the gems shone so brightly she could hardly even see the two Dwarves standing before her. Sigrid gasped for air and tried to find something solid on which to focus her gaze but she was drowning, drowning in the riches and the knowledge that even after they had made it so clear what the rules were for this holiday, she had still ruined everything.

 _“Sexual contact!?_ I tried to keep it all straight, I really did. I memorized that letter from you, Fíli, all those damned rules. And now another one! How many rules could this _stupid_ holiday even have, anyway?”

Her voice rang in the huge treasure room as the two Dwarves stared back at her, speechless. All of a sudden her head was clear again, and the sight of two heartbroken Dwarves filled her vision. Kíli’s eyes were wide, and he averted them as soon as she met his gaze. Fíli, though, was absolutely stricken. He stared openly at her, mouth hanging slightly open, arms dangling at his sides. His eyes were watery, and he looked as if he’d never be happy again. She hadn’t seen pain like that on his face since right after the Battle.

Oh gods. 

What had she done?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Khuzdul Translations_
> 
>  
> 
> Zannu Adrâf = roughly, Day of Remembrance and Atonement (Yom Kippur)  
> Ahlut gayad ni Magal ra mukhuh tadâ mi akrâg natagyildîn = Take joy in Mahal and may those with honour rejoice together  
> Iglî zai agyâd, sullu mamunûsumudtuân = Shout with happiness, all those who are loyal of heart)
> 
> ~*~
> 
> Hope you enjoyed the chapter! Let me know via kudos or comments, or you can find me [here on tumblr](http://cersei-the-truth-bombardier.tumblr.com). Thanks for reading!


	5. Chapter 5

Fíli couldn’t breathe. His throat was tight, his chest aching; it felt as if all his worst nightmares were coming true. Everything had been going so well. Even his mother had liked Sigrid, gone out of her way to compliment her. Then when he’d brought her down to the treasure room, shown her his family’s pride and shame and asked for her forgiveness, she’d been kind and gracious. When they’d kissed, oh, she was perfect.

It had all come crashing down in an instant. 

Fíli stuffed his hands in his pockets and jangled the handful of coins there as he blinked away the tears that prickled behind his eyes. Maybe this time the noise would drown out the memories of more than eighty years of taunts and violence. They’d been called goldsick, conniving, corrupt. Visions of copper pieces being tossed in his path flashed across his mind’s eye, hateful Men spitting, throwing dirt because they _didn’t look dirty enough for miners, perhaps they’d stolen their gold instead_. People had drawn crude caricatures of them on the walls of their shops, or worse, set fire to them. Calling the most holy day of the year a “stupid holiday” might not be the worst insult Fíli had ever endured, but it sure reminded him of it. 

He looked away, throat clenching painfully. Sigrid had shown how she really felt about _him,_ too. Perhaps he shouldn't have been surprised. She’d said the kiss meant nothing to her. Yet he had so hoped...

“I’m so sorry,” Sigrid gasped. She was blinking rapidly, shaking her head. “That was highly inappropriate. I didn’t mean it at all, truly!”

Fíli almost felt bad for her. She was wringing her hands in front of her, pressing them against her abdomen, unable to meet his eyes or Kíli’s. “It seems I’ve been spoiled by my newfound station and no longer recall how to go a day hungry without biting anybody’s head off.” 

She smoothed her skirts down again and cleared her throat. “This blasted _room--”_ Sigrid shook her head again. “I just need to get myself away. I would retreat to hide my shame but I’m afraid I’d only get myself lost.”

Kíli frowned and elbowed Fíli gently. “Why don't you… Um. I’ll just go tell Mother that you’re on your way? Buy you a bit of time to, ehm, sort this out.” When Fíli nodded, he trotted up the stairs and away from the two of them. The traitor. 

Fíli watched his brother leave, wishing for all the world that he could run away too. But wishing could not make it so. He turned to Sigrid who was staring at her feet. 

“I really shouldn’t have said any of that. I do take responsibility for my actions, whatever the consequences, but please know that I didn’t mean it.”

“Kíli was, um, he was teasing me. It really was just a kiss. A spur-of-the-moment type, ah, type of thing.” Fíli coughed and rubbed the back of his neck, hoping he’d kept the disappointment out of his voice. “No one’s going to be clamoring for a wedding. He’s the only one who saw anything anyway, and he’ll keep his mouth shut about it. You don't have to worry.”

“That’s, well, that’s good.” 

“Well I suppose I’ll take you to your quarters to wait out the last assembly,” he muttered, gesturing towards the stairs. “By the time it’s over the sun will have set and then dinner will be served. If you can’t wait that long I’m sure someone can find you something, Lady Sigrid.” 

Sigrid flinched at the title, but recovered quickly to level him with the coolest glare he’d ever seen on her face. “I still very much intend to be present at the assembly, Prince Fíli. And I certainly _can_ wait to eat with the rest of Erebor.” She turned her back to him with a sweep of her skirts, and began to climb up toward the door. “Like I said, this isn’t the first time I’ve gone without food for the day. I just let it get the better of me this time, is all. And I was embarrassed, and afraid I’d mucked everything up. Seems I’ve done that anyway. I felt my wits had left me... I feel better now though, up here in the halls.”

Fíli followed her up the stairs absently, his mind stuck on one thing. “Wait, what do you mean about going without food? I didn’t think Men had any fasting holiday. Unless there’s some special Lake Town tradition I haven’t heard of?”

She laughed and shook her head as she hauled the large door open. “Prince Fíli, please. You saw how we used to live. You saw what my da did for a job. He worked all day and night, Tilda and Bain went to school. They couldn’t afford to go hungry. I could.”

Fíli stopped short in the doorway. “Your father let you do this?” That didn't sound like Bard at all.

“Of course not! He would have killed me if he found out. Let’s just say that I got very good at selectively scooping stew out of a pot, or I’d have always ‘eaten’ before he got home. They needed it more that I did.”

Fíli stared. She loved so fiercely, and yet she would never love him. Tears threatened again and he blinked them away. “You’re astonishing,” he breathed.

“What?” She was several yards ahead of him now.

He coughed and shut the door behind him. “I just-- Nothing.” When he caught up to her he offered her his arm again. After all, it was only polite. He could still be polite.

“I really am sorry, Fíli,” she said as she slipped her arm inside his. “I shouldn’t have said any of that. I hope you believe me that I didn’t mean it. Your holidays aren’t stupid at all, I think they’re really lovely. In fact, I think we could do with a little time for reflection like this in Dale.”

“I believe you. It’s already forgotten, Lady Sigrid.” He put her title up like a brick wall between them. Perhaps it would shield him from too much of the hurt. They could be colleagues. It would be fine. Soon this would just be a memory they could laugh about. Probably.

“Please,” she whispered, “just call me Sigrid again.”

“I... don’t think that’s a good idea,” he replied, not meeting her eyes.

“Oh.” She frowned and added, “If what I said is ‘already forgotten,’ why are you--”

“It’s just that I care for you, very deeply,” he admitted, hating how rapidly he’d answered and how his voice wavered anyway. “And I thought you felt the same way but you don’t, and that’s fine, I understand. It was a long shot anyway - we come from such different worlds, and that’s never been more obvious to me than it is right now. It pains me to say but I just… I think it would be better if we just… didn’t.” He nodded sharply and continued down the hall. 

“What?”

Fíli stopped and looked at her with a sad smile. Mahal, but she was going to make him lay it all out. “You said the kiss didn’t mean anything to you, but it did to me. _Does,_ to me. That’s fine, you can’t help how you feel, and sure it all hurts but I’ll be all right.” He took a deep breath. “I just need time, and some distance. So it’s probably best if we just go back to the way it was. Prince Fíli and Lady Sigrid, heirs of neighboring kingdoms and nothing more. It’s fine. I’ll be… fine.” 

There. That wasn’t so bad.

“Oh… Oh Fíli,” she sighed as she turned to face him. She was looking down at him like he’d told her the sky was purple. “That’s not true at all. That kiss wasn’t meaningless to me. Far from it. I only said that because I was afraid, and confused, like I had started some sort of international incident or something _._ When Kíli said ‘sexual contact’ I panicked. My head wasn’t on straight.” 

Sigrid huffed a little laugh at herself, rolling her eyes to the ceiling. “I made it worse with every word, and I can’t tell you how much I regret hurting you so. I never want you to feel like I don’t care for you ever again.”

“You mean you-- Really?”

“I _mean,_ I have been hoping and wishing for almost a year that you could want me the way I want you.” Her cheeks flushed as she took his hands in both of hers. “I’ve made a right arse of myself tonight, I’m so sorry. I hope you can forgive me, and we can move past this, because I did quite like kissing you.”

He gaped at her blushing face. Was he really hearing this? He felt like he was back in those dreadful barrels, lurching down that river out of Mirkwood; his head was spinning, the breath was knocked out of him. It seemed this evening could hardly be more full of surprises. Could she really return his feelings after all? He had been hoping for so long...

“But, ah, if you can’t,” she added, somewhat crestfallen, “I understand. I know I hurt you and I’ll have to live with--”

Fíli surged forward and sealed his lips to hers. He didn’t want any more confusion or hesitation between them. They would be able to work it out after all. The past ten minutes had been torture enough, and Fíli had spent enough of his life wishing. It was time to make things happen.

What lovely things, too. She made a little squeak of surprise but melted against him, wrapping her arms around him. He reached up to cup her face and let his fingers play in the stray hairs that had escaped from her braid. She shivered, and laughed into his mouth, and it was the sweetest thing he’d ever tasted.

They moved so easily together, even as they stumbled to lean against the wall. Sigrid sank down just enough that he was no longer craning his neck, and he took full advantage of the new angle. He broke apart from her to draw a gasping breath, and immediately he was seeking her mouth again with his. Fíli vaguely registered footsteps much further down the hall, but luckily they were headed the other way. Though truth be told, it would have taken more than just the passing Dwarf to make him stop this time.

When Fíli received his first letter from Sigrid upon her father’s coronation, he had been all too happy to return it, offering words of support and advice. After all, it was the least he could do when she’d faithfully nursed him back to health after the Battle. He couldn’t remember much, but flashes of golden-brown hair and kind eyes had haunted his memories. It wasn’t until he watched the crown settle on Bard’s head that he looked at the woman who sat just behind the throne, and it all fell together. So yes, he’d sent letter after letter back to her and he’d fallen fast. Fíli was absolutely smitten within a matter of months. 

The only reason he hadn’t told her or anyone else was because even to this day he wasn’t completely sure. All right, it _also_ didn’t hurt to finally have something to himself after years of sharing everything with his brother and uncle and everyone else. Now, though, he didn’t care who knew about them so long as he could keep kissing her forever. 

Fíli pulled her bottom lip between his and nipped it lightly, and when she made that quiet, needy noise, he pulled even closer to her. He couldn’t decide where to put his hands; he wanted to touch her everywhere, feel every inch of her. Oh he was an inch away from trouble, he knew. Her curves fit so nicely against him, and all that protected him from her intoxicating warmth were two flimsy layers of cotton. He swiped his tongue along the spot that he’d bitten, and when she parted her lips for him and licked into his mouth, he felt that familiar heat start to bloom low in his belly. He chased the feeling with every part of him, urged on by all of Sigrid’s little sounds and movements. It was absolute bliss.

The sound of a horn, loud and bright, blasted through the mountain halls. Fíli broke away from her with a start. “Fuck, the lefamuinbar.”

“Wh--What?” Sigrid licked her reddened lips and stood up straight against the wall. “What’s happening?”

“Assembly’s starting. Come, we better hurry!” He took her hand and set off at a run. When they arrived at the doors to the Great Hall he stopped and smoothed down his tabard and ran a hand through his hair. He was sure he looked a mess. Sigrid was also primping, tucking hairs back into her braid, wiping her mouth on the back of her hand.. “No more time. You look beautiful. In you go!”

When Fíli opened the doors he was relieved to find people still milling about, lazily making their way to their seats. 

“Fíli!” Dwalin boomed, clapping a hand heavily on his back. “Where’ve you been, boy?”

“We were just--”

“Kíli said he found them in Thrór’s old throne room,” Dís answered coyly. 

Sigrid’s eyes widened. “Fíli just wanted to--

“Really? Showing her the ole’ family jewels, eh?” Bofur teased, nudging in between them to elbow them both. “Fíli, you dog.”

“What? _Family j--_ I never! Of course we--” Fíli stammered, looking desperately for someone who could save him. But Thorin was already seated, and Kíli was talking with Tilda and Bain. 

Sigrid’s face was a picture of horror. “I’m just going to… Um. My Da’s just over there so. I better. Um. Go.”

“Bofur!” Fíli hissed, shoving him in the shoulder as Sigrid hurried away. They had just barely gotten over the fallout from Kíli’s teasing. The last thing he needed was another round. 

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Bofur said, waggling his eyebrows. “Was it supposed to be a secret how sweet you are on her? My mistake.”

“Come on, son,” Dís murmured. “Escort your old mum up to her chair so we can get started. I’m starving and you know your uncle is going to talk for an hour at least.”

As the two of them took their places with Thorin and Kíli, he looked out to see Sigrid discussing something with Bain and Bard. When the conversation ended she looked up at him and smiled. He grinned back but ducked his head, and immediately felt a sharp elbow in his side.

“Ow, dammit Mother, what the--?”

“Stop making cow-eyes at the girl. Everyone can see you.”

“I have no idea what you mean,” he said, but could not meet her gaze.

“Hmph.” Dís folded her arms across her chest and sat back in her chair. “You know, I do think it’s about time Erebor forged some alliances in a bond stronger than paper.”

“You presume a bit much.”

“I have eyes. Now listen to your Uncle.”

As Thorin made his way to the front of the dais, Fíli snuck one last look at Sigrid. Maybe it could work out after all.

~*~

Sigrid was famished. And embarrassed, and relieved. When she met Fíli that morning to find Tilda some food, she had been surprised to find him wearing all white, or close to it. Light colored trousers, a white shirt, and a white tabard with gold trim. She’d never seen anything like it. It was just so different from what he normally wore, and it made his eyes look even bluer, and his hair even more strikingly golden. Not to mention it left much less to the imagination. That outfit did some sort of thing to her, and she’d been just that close to fucking it all up. Forget being famished. Sigrid was head-over-heels for him, and she was damned lucky he was so quick to forgive. 

Thorin’s voice pitched higher now, and Sigrid pulled her attention back to the conclusion of his message.

“As we say each year: Mukhuh aglâkhu Mahal, umahmâ, hikhthuzul suknâ du mâ. Ra amuh rathâkhmâ, ikhjimî ma akhmâ’, ra mukhuh akhmu ‘ata astnu.” 

Sigrid had no idea what he was saying, but there was a reverence there. Several Dwarves all throughout the room were nodding along, and some even mouthed the words with him. This was a familiar passage to everyone.

Thorin smiled as he looked down at the podium, though his voice was no less booming as he translated. _“May the Kindness of Mahal, our creator, be always clear to us. May the creations of our hands give us purpose. And may the purpose be you._ This is our prayer every year, yet how can we ask this of Mahal and yet tolerate discord between neighbors?”

Behind him, Fíli sat forward, elbows on his knees, fingers templed under his chin. He frowned in concentration; apparently this was not part of the holiday’s usual proceedings.

Yet Thorin continued. “That is why we Dwarves of the Lonely Mountain and distinguished guests gather here today to right a grave wrong. More than 170 years ago, drawn to the enormous wealth amassed by my grandfather King Thrór, the dragon Smaug came to bring fire and destruction not only to Erebor, but also to Dale. Through no fault of its own, Dale burned to the ground and two once-great kingdoms were brought low. Today, on the first Zannu Adrâf since we took this mountain back from that beast, we must recognize that to ever have collected that much wealth in one place was a mistake. 

“It’s true that Thrór suffered from the dragon sickness. Truer yet that I myself was not immune, and committed my own mistakes. My single-minded desire to reclaim that which was once ours eclipsed my honor, and the honor of our kingdom. A second time, due to the actions of one, many suffered. A second time, Men found their homes burning. Therefore after much discussion, Lord Bard and I have agreed that our kingdom shall make reparations to Dale, assisting them with the reconstruction of their once-fine city. Yet no payment can make up for those lost years. What is most important in this promise has less to do with property than with honor.”

Sigrid’s mouth dropped open. King Thorin, who had gone back on his word and spurned her da on the eve of the Great Battle, despite everything her family had done for him, now promised to rebuild her city? Perhaps all that horrible wealth in the old throne room would finally go to some use. She chanced a glance at Fíli, whose expression was somewhere between shocked and pleased. When she turned to look at Bard, she found him nodding slowly along with Thorin’s speech.

“Da?” 

He leaned down to whisper in her ear. “Seems I’ve been a bit too quick to judge our neighbors to the north. Let’s just say we had a very productive meeting this afternoon.”

“Never again,” continued Thorin, “shall our kingdom be known for greed, but rather for the strength of her people. Never again shall Erebor tempt fate, and reign down destruction upon her neighbors. For here we admit a wrong; here we reaffirm our commitment as a nation to do what is right, to think of our neighbor, and to act as a people deserving of the respect of our peers. This Zannu Adrâf, we take one more step towards being the people Mahal made us to be.” 

In the section of Dwarves across the aisle, Dwalin started clapping slowly, purposefully, and soon the other Dwarves of the company were joining in. Before long the whole room was applauding, rising to their feet, and when Sigrid looked back to her da she saw his eyes were a bit wet. Tilda clapped as well, though she didn’t know why, and when she looked up to the dais, Princess Dís was embracing King Thorin warmly. 

What a new year this was turning out to be already.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Khuzdul Translations_
> 
> Zannu Adrâf = *vague handwaving* roughly, Day of Remembrance and Atonement (Yom Kippur)  
>  lefamuinbar = horn instrument (shofar)  
>  Mukhuh aglâkhu Mahal, umahmâ, hikhthuzul suknâ du mâ. Ra amuh rathâkhmâ, ikhjimî ma akhmâ’, ra mukhuh akhmu ‘ata astnu. = May the Kindness of Mahal, our creator, be always clear to us. May the creations of our hands give us purpose. And may the purpose be you.  
> 


	6. Chapter 6

Sigrid sat with the rest of her family up at the head table as the entire kingdom of Erebor broke their Zannu Adrâf fast. It wasn’t the feast she was expecting; she felt like she could have eaten an entire horse, but they were only served soup and bread, and later some small cakes with honey and milk. Bain grouched about it a bit, but as Sigrid finished her portion she realized the wisdom. After going with only water in her stomach for a whole day, the richer dinners she’d become accustomed to would have made her sick. 

At least her da was happy. Bard sat between Sigrid and Thorin, and the two leaders were actually chatting. It was too bad the table was one long line. She would have liked to spend a little more time with Fili, as they had to leave tomorrow and get back to their regular lives.

“See Sigrid, I told you. All I needed was to come up here and find out what was going on, and everything would be fine!” Bard grinned, elbowing her gently in the ribs. “What do you think?”

He’d told her indeed. Sigrid would have liked to remind her da exactly what the sequence of events had _actually_ been, but behind him, Thorin was waiting for her reaction as well. She swallowed and wiped her mouth primly, buying herself some time. “It’s absolutely gorgeous here. I like it more than I ever thought I would,” she admitted easily. “And I’m finding Zannu Adrâf to be a really lovely tradition. As I’m sure all the rest are!”

Thorin nodded and smiled back at her. “Thank you, Lady Sigrid. I admit I wasn’t sure about inviting anyone who wasn’t a Dwarf, but Fili convinced me. He saw something in you, and you too, Bard.” 

There was some sort of look in his eye that made Bard turn around and look at her curiously, but she merely smiled and replied, “I’m so very glad he did.” The answer seemed to satisfy the both of them, so she turned back to her plate and scraped some crumbs off it, relishing the sweet honey. On her other side, Tilda started to rub at her eyes and yawn every so often. “Ready to go upstairs, Tilly?” 

“No,” she whined. “I want to stay up with all of you!”

“Well maybe I wanted to go upstairs myself, and I just wanted to know if you wanted to accompany me.” She exaggerated a yawn and stretched out her arms above her head. “I’m getting _really_ tired.”

“Well, if _you’re_ tired,” Tilda hedged, “I guess I can, um, _accompany_ you upstairs.” 

“Expertly done,” Bard murmured as Sigrid rose to her feet. 

“Now let’s see if we can find our way back, hm?”

Thorin pushed back from the table and stood as well, then took Sigrid’s hand. “Have a wonderful night, Lady Sigrid. I’m sure Fili will take you up.”

Sigrid nodded and led Tilda to the other side of the table, where Kili, Dis, and Fili sat close together, discussing something in hushed voices. 

“Are you sure, son? This would only fester.”

“Yes, yes, it’s been, er, sorted out.”

“I bet it has.”

Sigrid cleared her throat, interrupting Kili’s playful punch towards his brother. “Good evening, everyone.”

Fili stood quickly, shooting one last glowering look to Kili. “Lady Tilda, Sigrid! How are you? Heading to bed?”

“Sigrid is,” Tilda answered airily. “I’m not--” she yawned “--not tired yet. But I feel bad for her, so. I’m going to keep her company.”

Fili offered his arm to Tilda. “I think that’s very kind of you, Lady Tilda. Please allow me to escort you.”

Dis had fixed Sigrid with a searching look during the whole exchange, and it was all she could do to curtsey politely, make her exit, and hope she had passed whatever test it was. “Good night, Princess Dis. Prince Kili.”

As she left the dining hall, Sigrid let Fili and Tilda walk just a little bit ahead of her. It was nice not to have to keep face for a little while. Right now, it was all she could do to gaze adoringly at the picture they made. Fili was still taller than Tilda by a fair amount, but it wouldn’t be long before she caught up. His back was straight as a board, and Tilda’s chest was puffed out too, relishing the grown-up attention he gave her. He was so gentle. Tilda would kill Sigrid if she ever found out how close she had come to ruining everything.

But he had been just as gentle with her. He’d talked to Thorin for her, brought him around so Da would stop acting so crazy. He’d even been gentle after she’d stomped all over his heart. Fili could have thrown her out for what she’d said. Instead he’d forgiven her instantly, and made all her wishes come true. 

“G’night, Prince Fili,” Tilda chimed as they arrived at the door.

“Good night, Lady Tilda.”

Sigrid paused as Tilda opened the door. “Go brush your hair, Tilly, I’ll be there in a minute.” Thankfully she scurried away and left them alone. 

“Sigrid, I--”

“Fili, I--” They both laughed as they talked over one another. When he gestured for her to go ahead, Sigrid dipped her head and said, “I just wanted to thank you, again, for today. For everything. Da’s happy, Tilda had a ton of fun, Bain is… Well, you’d never know it because he’s so quiet, but he has liked being here too.” 

She stepped towards him and took his hand. “And I… I know I wasn’t my best self this afternoon, and I wanted to thank you for your forgiveness.” Sighing, she admitted, “I’m still ashamed of what I said.”

Fili stuck his other hand in his pocket and toyed with some coins, but didn’t drop her hand either. “It was… a surprise, I’ll admit. Growing up, we didn’t always live near the most understanding of Men. Oftentimes that was why we ended up moving around.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry,” she breathed. He didn’t have to tell her how much it had cost him; his face said it all. “I really am.” 

“I know,” he replied with a small smile. “But it’s easier to move past it this time, knowing that you feel the same way I do.”

“I do.”

The silence stretched between them, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. Sigrid felt like she could stay there forever with him, holding his hand loosely, just enjoying his company. Unfortunately Tilda had other ideas.

“Sigrid!” she called, her voice loud despite the closed door. How did she manage that every night? “What are you doing out there? Come on!”

Fili’s cheeks blushed pink through his beard. “I should let you go.”

“She can wait.” They stood there for a moment more, and Sigrid took half a step closer. It did not escape her notice that his eyes flicked down, and she instinctively licked her lips. She wanted so badly for him to kiss her again, but the last time she’d taken the initiative it hadn’t exactly gone well. Oh, but there he was, looking at her so tenderly, the torchlight making the gold in his hair dance. All she wanted was to twist her fingers into it, to feel his whiskers against her cheek, and it seemed he wanted the same.

“Can I…” he bit his lip, shuffling forward just a bit. 

Sigrid’s heart soared. “Please.”

Fili reached up to her cheek and pulled her down, pressing a soft kiss to the corner of her mouth. She tilted her head just enough, nudging her nose against his, so she could kiss him back fully. His lips moved over hers oh so softly, and when his thumb rubbed over her cheek it burned in the most delightful way. Dinner’s wine was still on his breath, but she couldn’t care because he was kissing her again. Her hands rested loosely on his upper arms and she relished the feeling of all that corded muscle moving as he circled her waist with his hands. He kissed like she was the most precious thing in the world, all careful, gentle movements, slowly increasing the pressure as though to see if she would break. 

But she wouldn’t break, she wanted more. Sigrid trailed her hand up from his arm to cup the back of his neck and pull him closer, and let a soft moan when he slipped his tongue against hers. Fili shuddered and pulled back just a bit, returning to chaste kisses that made her sigh. When she felt his smile against her lips, a giggle bubbled out of her and she pulled away after one last smooch.

“I should, um. We should-- Well, good night, Fili.”

He grinned back dopily, kiss-swollen lips bright red behind his golden beard. “Yes. We should. Sleep well, Sigrid.”

She slipped behind the door to her quarters and sighed. 

“Are you done kissing now?” Tilda asked from the bedroom doorway. 

Sigrid pursed her lips and strode past her sister into the bedchamber, taking off her outer dress as quickly as she could and slipping into bed. 

“Good,” Tilda huffed, and blew out the last candle.

+++

Bain and Sigrid stood with their backs to the wall, watching everyone bustle around them, readying the horses.

“This just feels wrong,” he huffed. “Taking care of the horses is basically my only job at home anymore, and now no one will let me touch a damn thing!”

“Enjoy it while it lasts. You'll be back to your chores soon enough. Besides, don't you want a bit of rest before we’re on the road all day?” 

“Half a day.”

Sigrid snorted. “You could make it in half a day if it were just you and the horse. But King Thorin's sending us home with a sack of gold for each animal, it looks like.”

Bain rolled his eyes, unfolded and refolded his arms across his chest. “I’m just not used to feeling so useless.”

“I know.” Sigrid looked back over the scene, wincing as Tilda raced through the maze of animals and Dwarves. “Be careful, Tilly, please?”

A deep rumble of laughter came from the other side of Bain. “Is she always so energetic?”

“You've no idea, Prince Fili,” Bain sighed. “Yule is always an absolute nightmare, and we've got that coming up rather soon actually. Not that I'm terribly excited. It's all ‘wake up, there's presents’ and ‘let's go outside’ and so on. Don't get a lick of rest even though it's supposed to be a holiday.”

Sigrid just bit her lip to hide her grin. He was so obvious. In truth, Bain was usually already awake before Tilda even got to him, and Sigrid always noticed little rips at the paper wrapping his gift under the tree. “Aye, and it sounds like you’ve given this quite a lot of thought considering Yule isn’t for two more months. Besides, Bain, it will be quite a different holiday this year.”

“How so?” Fili asked.

“We’ll be going from door to door handing out our extra food and such, rather than being the ones on the dole.”

Her frank reply seemed to take him aback, but he quickly recovered as his mother approached. “Mother, good morning!”

Sigrid found it was easy to return her beaming smile. “Hello, Your Highness.” She dipped her chin what she hoped was the right amount, hoping Bain would take the hint as well.

“Good morning!” Dis sang. “I hope you ate well at breakfast! You need to keep your strength up for your trip home. We can’t have you wasting away on the road, now, can we? Did you pack something to snack on?”

“It’s only half a day, Mother,” Fili muttered, the tips of his ears coloring pink. Was he… embarrassed? 

“Even so,” she tutted, taking Sigrid’s hand. “There’s no such thing as over-prepared, am I right, darling?”

“Right,” Sigrid said. Glancing past Dis for a moment, she could have sworn Fili looked like he wanted to run away. “It was ever so nice to meet you, Your Highness, truly.”

“Oh no, the pleasure was all mine. I only wish I could have had more time to get to know you and your family.” She looked to Fili, who looked immediately at the floor. 

Sigrid’s smile grew a bit strained as she realized Dis still held her hand and was patting it gently. “Well perhaps some day in the future we can take our turn hosting you.”

“You all should come down to Dale for Yule!” Bain added, eyes suddenly alight. “After all, you shared your holiday with us, it’s only fair.”

Now her smile was definitely stuck. Why had she said that? “What an _interesting_ idea, Bain. But don’t you think Da should--”

“That sounds lovely!” Dis grinned, infected by Bain’s excitement.

Fili winced. “That’s right around Margu lukhûd, Mother, don’t you think Thorin will want--”

“It’ll be fine, Sig!”

“Thorin will listen to his sister if he knows what’s good for him, ‘ibinê.”

“Ugh, Mother!”

Oh, now Fili _was_ embarrassed! Sigrid tried to keep from laughing as she bent down and kissed Dis’ cheek. “Well I will certainly keep it in mind as we make our plans.” 

“Why wait?” Dis asked. “I’m going to go find your father now.” And before anyone could protest, she was gone in a whirl of deep blue skirts. 

“That’s… great.” Fili said, swinging his arms. “Just… wonderful.”

They stood there for a moment, Fili wincing, Bain grinning, and Sigrid trying not to lose her head again at the mere thought of another joined holiday so soon, when a shriek cut through the hubbub.

“Dammit, Tilda!” Bain groaned, and ran off to collect her. Fili made to follow, but Sigrid caught his arm.

“Bain has it under control, she’ll be fine.” When he stopped and looked down at her hand, she snatched it away. “Sorry! Um. I just wanted a minute alone to tell you that I hope this wasn’t too horrible for you, because I really quite liked visiting you.”

“It wasn’t horrible,” he smiled. “Well, parts were. But I suppose you’ll find out soon enough what it felt like; Mother’s on a mission, so I expect we will be coming down for Yule.”

The very thought petrified her, but it _was_ only fair. At least she had more notice than he had. “May I write you? Until then? I fear I’ll need your support and guidance so we don’t accidentally offend. Um. Again.”

“It would be my genuine pleasure,” Fili replied. “Just... Not on Saturdays? It’s our resting day and we aren’t supposed to -- oh this is going to sound silly--” 

“No, please. Tell me.”

“Well, we aren’t supposed to break anything. Which would include the seals on letters, I’m afraid.”

Sigrid’s eyes widened in recognition. “By the Valar… _That’s_ why you didn’t answer right away!?” 

He nodded, and they chimed together, “I’m so sorry!”

Fili sighed. “I hope you didn’t think the worst of me.”

“What? No…” She shook her head, trying to squash the memory of stress-cleaning the house within an inch of its life. “Of course not!” When she averted her gaze past his head, she noticed her da approaching, leading her horse. 

“All right, Sig?” he asked, handing over the reins. “Let’s get on the road before the Princess invites herself over for tea tonight.”

“That was _all Bain!”_ she said quickly as she sidestepped away from her horse’s snuffling search of her pockets. 

“Even so. We need to get moving.”

“Aye, Da.” 

They watched him as he walked away to help Tilda get settled in the saddle of her pony. Still facing the room, Fili stepped towards her and slipped his hand back into hers. “Sigrid,” he murmured, “Would it be inappropriate if… Well I should very much like to give you a kiss goodbye.”

Oh bless him. She couldn’t believe how even now Fili was so unsure. She slipped her free hand into her pocket where the small scrap of parchment was already growing soft and worn. Unable to wipe the smile off her face, she pulled the both of them behind the horse and lowered her lips barely an inch away from his. “It would be my genuine pleasure.”

He bounced up on his toes and captured her mouth with his, using his free hand to cup her face loosely. They were getting better at this, it seemed. Every movement of her lips was met with eager action from him, as if he were able to read her mind. The only thing on her mind anyway was his mouth, his lips, his breath passing over her and through her, sending warmth all the way down to the tips of her toes. She could have stayed there for hours, but when she tried to deepen their kiss and slipped her tongue along the seam of his lips, he pulled away, shaking his head. “Oh, bunnanunê… I should let you go now, lest I lose myself in your kisses and get us both in a world of trouble.” 

Sigrid squeezed his hand and pressed one last kiss to his cheek before swinging up into her saddle. “Look me up next time you’re in town,” she said as she made sure her booted feet sat securely in her stirrups. “I owe you for that candy.”

“I can think of a few ways you can pay me back.” 

“Now Prince Fili, don’t be indelicate,” she tutted, turning her horse out towards the road and the rest of her family. “Besides, I’d like to think a kiss from me is worth more than a handful of candy.” Sigrid tossed her braid back over her shoulder and clucked her tongue at her horse. As she trotted out of the mountain to meet the rest of the family, Fili’s laughter followed her and buried itself in her heart. 

No more wishing. It was a good thing too - she’d need all the help she could get if Bain and Princess Dis got their way. But that was a problem for another day. For now, she had the road in front of her, her handsome prince behind her, and a wealth more knowledge than she’d entered the mountain with in the first place. A fruitful trip indeed, and now she had a day’s journey through the chill. Sigrid dug in her coat pocket for a handkerchief and felt something small and hard tucked in among the fabrics. She pulled it out, gasped, and immediately put it back.

The necklace. He must have snuck it in her pocket when she’d kissed him, the little snot. No one could find out about it, not until they’d decided how to move forward publicly. Yet she couldn’t keep the grin off her face. Oh gods, there was no use denying it.

“Oh, forget ‘diplomatic statements,’” she murmured, twisting her fingers gently in the delicate chain. “I’m yours.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Khuzdul Translations_
> 
> Margu lukhûd = Celebration of Lights (Hanukkah)  
>  ‘ibinê = my gem  
>  bunnanunê = my tiny treasure  
> 
> 
> ~*~
> 
> Again I want to thank [inheritanceofgeek](http://archiveofourown.org/users/inheritanceofgeek) also known on tumblr as [mrsmarymorstan](http://mrsmarymorstan.tumblr.com/), who did all of the translations for me for free. What a pal.
> 
> Also to [magic_ramen](http://archiveofourown.org/users/magic_ramen) who's on tumblr as [magic-ramen](http://magic-ramen.tumblr.com/), who helped spark this idea in me and then encouraged me the whole way, and _then_ beta read it for me to make sure I didn't completely mess things up. She 100% didn't have to do it, especially because at the time she was going through Some Shit. And she did it anyway. Thank you.
> 
> Finally, a thousand thousand thanks to all of you. I really appreciate you taking the time to read this, to hit the Kudos button, to drop a comment here and there. I love you desperately. Come visit me on tumblr.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed! Let me know via kudos or comments, or you can find me [here on tumblr](http://cersei-the-truth-bombardier.tumblr.com). Thanks for reading!


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